


The Long Way Home

by aswerene



Series: Just a world away AU [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: AU, Angst, Body Horror, Don’t copy to another site, Gen, Non-Consensual Drug Use, PTSD, Torture, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2019-10-13 12:30:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 55,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17488085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aswerene/pseuds/aswerene
Summary: She takes a moment to recall the info she already has been forwarded by Dick and Tim. “You were on the roof of the GCPD.”“Yep.”“Naked, except for your helmet.”“Yup, had my reasons.”“Care to elaborate?” He just stares at her, unblinking. “No? Fine.” Barbara sighs, folds her own hands in her lap. This might be harder than she thought. Jason might be willing to talk to her, but apparently he’s unwilling to share all details. “We all wonder why, Jason.”Jason is gone nearly 6 months, without notice, without a trace. His reappearance raises more new questions than answer them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not a native english speaker, so there might be mistakes concernig grammar and vocab. Additionally, I have no beta-reader (because the ones willing to check this aren't native speakers either). So I apologize in advance...  
> If you find anything, that should be corrected, please let me know. Thanks!  
> Hopefully you can still enjoy this.

Dick is the one to open the door for her. He called her, asked her over, so it’s not surprise that keeps him still. But nonetheless they stare at each other for several moments, before he pushes the big wooden valve wide open and steps into the middle of it.

“Glad you could make it.” He sounds as stiff as she feels looking at him. It has been a long time since they’ve been face to face. Too much has been said, even more left unsaid. They didn’t part as friends, neither as enemies, but now it feels as though they’ve become strangers once again. Barbara doesn’t regret it, she said things she had wanted to say for a long time, things Dick had needed to hear. And in return he had told her what he thought she needed to hear. They hadn’t been mean, but still, they were both hurt by it. And now, this awkward silence between them is all that is left. For now.

She manages a small smile, if only to pretend it is okay for her to be here, nothing unusual. “Of course. Don’t ever hesitate to call me, if you need my help.” She means it.

“How are you? How’s your dad doing?” Dick stands right in the middle of the doorframe, as if unsure if he can let her inside yet. He’s fumbling over his words, his eyes darting back and forth between her face and his own hands.

“Dick… it was not a social call, I know, don’t worry. We’ll have time to talk later. Let’s focus on the… current situation.” If anything, she can be professional. There’s a problem to solve here and for all the cracks in their relationship, she would never dismiss a call from Dick. Especially when it involves his family. In a way, they are her family too and she can put her personal grudges aside for that.

He nods and steps aside, let’s her roll through the entrance inside the hall. The door closes behind her with a low thud. “Yeah, I… you know, just feels like bad timing, that’s all. We didn’t get to… And now you’re here, because I basically ordered you to come.” He sounds more than just nervous and maybe it is not entirely because she is here. He stares ahead, down the hallways as if waiting for something or someone to appear.

“It’s fine. Take me to him. Has Bruce had a chance to talk to him yet?” They haven’t given her all details yet, but at least Tim was nice enough to forward her all transcripts he had obtained from Bruce. Or rather, taken without asking. Because as much as Barbara respects Bruce, she knows how difficult he can be to work with.

“He tried. We all tried. He won’t talk to us. “Get Barbara”, that’s pretty much all he’s said since we found him.” Dick sighs and keeps walking beside her, as they make their way down the hall. “Given how we found him, it does make us worry. He hasn’t said anything about his absence, where he’s been, what he’s done.”

“Nothing?” she asks, surprised.

Dick shakes his head. “Not a word.”

That seems unusual, even for Jason. He’s not especially open with his family, but he isn’t cruel and would make them worry unnecessarily. If something had happened, he would have told them. For him to stay silent and not even tell them where he’s been the past 6 months is out of character. “Did we worry for nothing, Dick? Was it all just a mission he couldn’t tell us about? What do you think? You reached him first.”

“Had it been a mission, he would have told us by now. Or we would have heard about it.” He frowns, doubting his own words for a split second. All personal bias aside, Jason could have lied to them about a mission. He has before. But neither Artemis nor Bizzaro knew about any missions. And neither did Roy. Barbara doubts Jason would have gone on a mission without telling anyone.

Together they make their way down the hallway, through one of the big living rooms and down the next hall, to the study and the entrance to the cave. It’s the second entrance Bruce installed, so she could use it in her wheelchair without assistance and since then it has become the main gateway down into the tunnels for the other family members as well.

Dick seems lost in thought. He walks beside her without lifting his head. He stares ahead at the wooden boards on the floor and fumbles with his fingers. He’s distracted, doesn’t as much as glance at her, his thoughts completely taken by something else.

“But?” Barbara enquires, tries to get him to talk more.

“But… Barbara, he looked shaken, like he was relieved to finally see me.” Dick turns to her, stops abruptly. Again he lowers his eyes, licks his lips before he can continue. “And pretty roughed up. He has scars we have never seen before, that look at least a few years old. But that’s impossible, you know? We’ve been working together again for years, we would have noticed them.” He looks at her, maybe expecting an explanation he hasn’t been able to think of yet.

Put like that Barbara also has no idea what could have happened. All of them have scars and wounds from their battles. But no new injury stays a secret for long, especially those that leave physical proof. Bruce insists on medical examination at least every 3 months, if nothing serious happens that would require one earlier. Their medical records are accessible for everyone in the family, Barbara included. Dick is right, had Jason been injured severely enough for scars to form, they would have known about it. And though 6 months is a long time, scars indeed change through the course of a year or more, and with all the experience they have, they can tell a fresh one from one that’s had years to grow change with the body. Even more so on a young person like Jason.

“We’ll figure this out. He asked for me, I’m here, I’ll talk to him.” If he refuses to talk to anyone else, she has to at least try. Because all of them have worried for his wellbeing while he had been gone. Barbara missed him, she can’t deny that, even though they haven’t worked together closely for at least a year. “He isn’t hiding from us, he called you to fetch him. Focus on that. He’s at the manor willingly.” she tells Dick, tries to sound optimistic. He just looks at her, knowing it’s a bluff. But he doesn’t call her out on it. What would be the point? Nobody can make Jason do anything, Dick knows that, Barbara knows it as well. But there are times when he will choose the lesser evil, just to get things over with more quickly. He might be here right now, but that doesn’t mean he is willing to stay.

They are about to continue down the hall, when they hear steps approaching from behind. They both turn around as Alfred walks around a corner. “Miss Gordon, it’s good to see you.” Alfred smiles the way only he can. Open, friendly, always a bit cheerful, as if greeting an old friend or family member. It makes one feel welcome, no matter the circumstances. He bends down to hug Barbara briefly. Sometimes it’s okay to break protocol, even for Alfred. Especially for Barbara, because it has been too long since her last visit to the manor.

“Good to see you too, Alfred.”

“Thanks for coming here and your assistance in this matter.” As he stands straight once more, Barbara has time to look at him. He does look as worn as Dick, deeply affected by the last 6 months. Not only due to Jason’s disappearance, though it had been a great factor of stress, but also due to the strain inside their family. Barbara hasn’t spied on them, despite the desire to do so at times, but she knows there have been arguments, maybe even fights inside this house and down below. There had been days, when Bruce and Dick hadn’t talked to each other, both on patrol and missions. Tim had once remarked on their stubbornness and Damian, who was most sensitive to any strain in the others relationships, had withdrawn into the same silence that had surrounded him when he had arrived here. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Jason’s disappearance had affected Bruce and as consequence, everyone in this house. It was obvious on Alfred, at least. He looked thinner, worn out, like fabric stretched too wide, the threads barely holding their original shape.

“Anytime, Alfred.” For him, Barbara manages a genuine smile, which Alfred returns. “Is he upstairs or-?” She doesn’t need to ask, yet she does, if only to stretch the time she has talking with Alfred. Bruce is still Bruce and one of his weakness is how predictable he tends to be.

Alfred’s face falls visibly. “The… basement. Master Bruce suggested we keep him there, to avoid any rash decisions after the past months.”

No doubt his own irrational decisions, but Bruce wouldn’t be himself without putting at least partial responsibility on the people surrounding him. Failures are a family affair, but victories are not shared.

“Paranoid basta-.”

“Master Dick!”

Dick grunts. His hands have curled into fists, his whole body trembles slightly with tension, but he manages to push it down. Barbara can see the strength it takes and wonders, if this is like the birth of Nightwing all over again. A tension between Dick and Bruce that took years to ease, but never really healed. If it were to arise again, it would change the family and all their interactions. Last time, only a handful of people were affected. This time, more than a dozen would be directly involved. That could make it turn out worse.

He glares at Alfred, though his anger is not directed at him. “You know I’m right. He’s keeping him locked up in the cave. Jason hasn’t asked for anything or complained since we brought him in. He’s more docile than he’s been in years, yet Bruce treats him like a feral, wild monster, that might attack us if we turn our backs.”

“Are we sure it’s him? If there are marks we can’t explain, there is a chance he’s not who he claims to be.” Her words break the tension in Dick’s body. Whatever he had been thinking of during his words, he now focuses back on her and why Barbara is here. They look at each other for two seconds, silently, before Alfred coughs slightly. No doubt he can sense the strain between them as well.

“Several blood samples have all shown the same genetic result. Master Bruce was very thorough in his examination. Still, a small chance remains, that it is not Master Jason, who has returned to us.”

Barbara turns to Alfred, while Dick remains silent. She can feel his eyes following her movement, still watching her silently. If only she could read his mind. But enough time wasted, she wants to get done what she came for to do. “What do you think, Alfred?” Apart from Bruce, he has known Jason the longest and probably the most thoroughly. If anyone, he might be able to tell if something didn’t feel right. And Dick is correct, Bruce is too paranoid for his own good to make rational decisions when one of his kids is involved. It’s part of the reason he and Dick had their fallout and no doubt it’s the same with Jason.

“To be honest, I am not sure. He doesn’t see the same as six months ago. But a lot may have happened since then.” Alfred’s voice doesn’t waver, but Barbara can hear the worry in his words. He’s composed, as Alfred always tries to be, to keep character and stay true to his own code of honor as Butler and caretaker of this mix-matched family. But he’s only human and nobody loves his kids like Alfred does. “I can’t say for sure. We have all hoped for Master Jason’s safe return and we are all relieved to have him back. Just… some members of this family would rather be safe than sorry, I suppose.”

Barbara nods. That’s a nice way of putting it, but he’s right. They all have been sick with worry, but they’ve learned to never trust a gift without doubt. Their lives are too dangerous for that. And while Barbara and obviously Dick might not agree with Bruce’s take on ‘safety first’, what alternative do they have? They don’t understand yet what has happened to Jason and it might not be over yet.

Dick takes a step forward, pulling Barbara out of her thoughts. “Alfred, I apologize-” he looks rather crestfallen. Barbara would bet he hasn’t been sleeping for days, again, and as optimistic as Dick can be at times, he has a cruel streak that manages to slip through when he’s exhausted or overly stressed. Which family matters tend to induce.

“No, Master Dick, it is quite alright. We all deal with the situation differently.” Alfred assures.

Poor Alfred, he really has the patience of a saint. Without him, this house would be ruled mayhem and chaos.

“I’m just… frustrated.” Dick gestures with his hands, unsure how to put his feelings into words. “He’s back again and it still doesn’t feel right. Right now, he’s acting more like a stranger. He should call us names and complain about food, constantly. I’d feel better if he did.”

“Food is an excellent idea. I was just on my way to prepare dinner. Master Jason has not requested anything, but he always liked Coq au Vin quite well. You wish to eat with us, Miss Gordon?” Alfred asks, facing her with a warm smile.

“Gladly. Thank you, Alfred. And for your opinion. I guess I’ll go downstairs and… see how it goes.”

“I wish you luck.”

“Thanks.”

 

####

 

She goes down into the cave on her own. Alfred requests Dick’s help and the kitchen and this time Dick compiles instantly. Maybe it was Alfred’s stern look or Dick’s own conscience. Barbara is just glad to get a few minutes alone with Jason. He’s more likely to be honest with her if no one else is around. He came here willingly, but that doesn’t mean he’ll feel welcome.

It seems that nobody else is down here. The cave is silent, she can only hear the stream of water gushing beneath the rocks and the occasional screech of the bats living down here. She hears the echo of their wings flapping around the dark concrete and stones, as she wheels closer to the console of the batcomputer. Down the ramp of this platform is a medical unit, equipped with everything needed to perform simple surgeries and behind that are a handful of quarantine chambers built into the rocks.  
The one on the far right is filled with light, the others remain in shadows. She can already see Jason, as he sits on the cot in the corner, his legs firmly planted on the ground and his arms folded over his knees. Her wheelchair is nearly silent on the rocky floor, but Jason turns his head as she comes closer, as if he had heard her coming. He doesn’t move as she comes closer, only once she has stopped before the glass door of the chamber, he rises from the cot and stands right across from her.

He looks huge, though slightly distorted through the glass and the blue tinted light in the chamber. He’s wearing a bodysuit in mostly white and black. It’s skin-tight, designed to keep whoever occupies the chambers warm in this chilly and wet environment. For all the technology Bruce has installed in this cave, a working heating system is not among it.

“Jason.” She greets him.

“Barbara.” He nods her head at her. He keeps his arms crossed in front of him. She can tell he is a bit embarrassed due to his tight clothing, but he keeps his chin high, as if daring her to comment on it.

She looks at him closely, trails her eyes up and down. There are scratches on the back of his hands, not fresh, but at most only a few days old. His skin is paler than it should be. None of them tend to get out into the sun much, but even in this harsh light Barbara can see how unhealthy Jason’s overall complexion looks. His eyes are dark and red and there are indeed a few marks on his face and especially his neck that look unfamiliar. There’s a long scar down his neck right to the front of his throat that she hasn’t seen before. And Dick is right, it looks at least a few years old. She can’t decide if he looks taller, because he obviously has lost weight - especially muscle mass on his thighs, upper body and arms - or if he has grown taller. “You look horrible.” She remarks with a slight grin. Despite his overall unwell appearance, at least he’s here, alive and seemingly uninjured.

“Thanks, I guess.” Jason grins as well, though a bit more strained. His body is rigid with tension, but he tries to downplay it. His feet are planted further apart to appear relaxed, he holds his arms in front of him, not only to keep himself a bit covered in the tight outfit, but also to keep them from shaking. Barbara can see how tightly he presses them against his body. His eyes move with every intake of breath, he’s keeping his surrounding checked so nothing can surprise him.

“You called for me, I’m here.” The sooner they talk, the sooner she can get answers.

“Ah, don’t make that face. We are not here to chat, you’re here on a case.” Jason grins again, this time a bit more cheeky, at bit more playful, like he usually would. He turns and walks a few steps back into the chamber. There’s not much room he has, the cell (and it really isn’t more than that right now) is just a few steps long and wide. It’s just enough space for Jason to stretch his legs a little and high enough that he can’t reach the ceiling without jumping. No wonder Jason must feel trapped.

Barbara keeps her eyes on his back, watches his steps closely. Nothing suggests a more serious injury, his walk is fine and he doesn’t hold himself differently than he did before. “Is that case you? What happened to you?”

“You tell me.” He sits down on the cot again, his head turned towards her.

She takes a moment to recall the info she already has been forwarded by Dick and Tim. “You were on the roof of the GCPD.”

“Yep.”

“Naked, except for your helmet.”

“Yup, had my reasons.”

“Care to elaborate?” He just stares at her, unblinking. “No? Fine.” Barbara sighs, folds her own hands in her lap. This might be harder than she thought. Jason might be willing to talk to her, but apparently he’s unwilling to share all details. “We all wonder why, Jason.” Especially why he was naked except for his helmet. It is summer and Gotham can be very hot and humid this time of the year, so one wouldn’t be cold, even when unclothed, but… why would he even be naked in the first place? For someone like Jason it’d be easy to get any kind of clothes in no time, civilian or cape-related. It just doesn’t make sense.

“And you all have your theories, I’m sure. B thinks I went nuts.” At that, Jason chuckles, as if thinking of a private joke. He stares down at his hands a moment and then looks back at Barbara. “Well, first he thought I was a clone, then a shape-shifter, maybe alien, and now just regular old me, with my head finally cracked.”

Barbara sighs. “We were worried, Jason. You were gone for nearly 6 months.” He flinches, barely noticeable, but she catches the movement. “There was no word from you, no sign where you had gone. We tried what we could. We called all your acquaintances or paid them a visit, but none knew your whereabouts. Even Clark couldn’t find a trace of you. We asked him to look for you. For months, whenever time allowed it, he searched the globe for you. So, yes, we all wonder what happened and want to hear about it.” Bats screech in the distance, as the last of her voice echoes through the cave. For a few moments after that, it’s nearly completely silent.

Jason ducks his head a little. “Yeah, sorry about that.” His words sound genuine.

Barbara gets a bit closer to the glass door, puts her hand on the cold surface. “Jason, talk to me. You asked for me, here I am. Go ahead, I’m listening.” He sits completely still, watches her from the cot, seated as far away from her as he can in the confined cell. Then he lifts his head, stares right at a fixed point on the ceiling. Barbara knows about the camera; Jason does as well.

“Disable to cameras. And the recordings. This stays between you and me.” He looks back at her, turns his whole body towards her. The tension is still visible in his shoulders, but he seems a bit calmer now. His arms don’t shake, even though they are only loosely placed in his lap.

For a moment Barbara considers it. “I’ll do that and you’ll be honest with me? Because so far you’ve given us nothing.” They are family, yes. But sometimes it’s hard to trust each other. And this whole situation makes her tense as well. Jason acts weirdly, she can’t deny that.

“You and me both know how paranoid this family is. B has his eyes and ears everywhere.” His eyes briefly dart to the camera. “He might not be down here right now, but he knows everything that happens. I’m not here to cause any trouble, or I would have done so already. I let them put me in a cage, didn’t I? They took my helmet and gave me this rip-off discowing suit to make sure I have nothing on me.” Jason stretches his arms for emphasis. “And I stayed calm, I didn’t cuss or throw around punches.”

“You do realize that this is part of why everyone is so concerned? And I’ll be honest, it confuses me as well. You could have gone to any of your safe houses, check if they had been compromised and get whatever you needed. But you came here, first thing. And why would you choose to confide in me and only me?”

“It had to be you, Barb. Not saying this to stroke your ego, but you’re the best of us. They call Batman the world’s greatest detective, but we all know he gets compromised easily by his feelings. He makes rash decisions, when one of us is involved and that’s no option here. I need you.” His voice trembles ever so slightly at the last sentence. He makes his way over to the glass door once more and puts his palm against the glass on his side. There’s a collection of new, deep scars there as well.

Barbara tracks their orientation, depth and composition. Made with a knife, hastily, without much finesse. But every line goes smoothly from beginning to end. Either Jason was not conscious while he received them or he was strapped down. Had he tried to snap back his hand in pain, the lines would look differently. As she looks back up, their eyes meet.

“Okay, let’s run with this scenario.” She feels trapped. Jason has called for her and put her in a difficult situation. Bruce, Dick and everyone else expects her to get more information out of Jason, while he refuses to do so without her agreeing to his terms. If she refuses, the others will question her about it, maybe doubt her sincerity. But if she does agree, she leaves herself vulnerable to exploit.

He’s still standing right in front of the door, looking at her, waiting for her response.

“I’ll disable all means of communication with the others, lock ourselves in this cave… and then? They’ll get suspicious, worried and watch you even more closely.” Not forgetting her as well. And spoken out loud, it even sounds suspicious. If Jason had wanted to have this conversation with her in private, he shouldn’t have come to the manor in the first place. He could have contacted her through one of their private channels and meet in secret, before announcing his return to the whole family via their group channel.

“Please Barbara.” He actually pleads, sincere and with emphasis. “I’ll tell you once you’ve done it.”

Now, she has to decide. It doesn’t seem like a good idea. Then again, what’s the worst that could happen? The quarantine chamber seems unaltered, nobody seems to have messed with it, so Jason is stuck inside. The cave itself hasn’t been infiltrated, nothing suggests a breach of security and it has been checked completely after Jason’s disappearance. It’s very unlikely somebody has been able to sneak past their surveillance. And why shouldn’t she trust Jason? He has never given her any reason to mistrust him. Not hen it counts. “Fine. But if I feel like you’re not being truthful and hiding things from me, we’re done.” She tells him with stern words.

“Fair enough.” He retreats from the door and steps back, as to not crowd her too much. Not that he could with such a thick glass door between them, but he’s trying to be polite. “You also might want to delete the last 5 minutes of footage. Just in case.”

Barbara is already typing on her phone, connecting directly to the cave’s surveillance feed and altering the cameras. It takes a few seconds and then she has the last seconds on loop on the channel, of Jason standing in front of the glass door. This won’t fool Bruce, if he’s taking a look at the feed, but it will keep him out of their conversation for a few minutes. As requested, she also deletes the footage of their prior conversation. “Already did. We have at about 6 minutes, before Bruce can reboot the system. So, spill.” She puts her phone back in her pocket and leans back in the chair, glaring at Jason expectantly.

“I told you about B’s theories about me.” Jason glances at the camera once more, then he turns around and sits back down on the cot. “And, I hate to say it, he might be right.” He folds his hands back in his lap and stares down at the floor.

Barbara watches him, as the tension seems to rush out of him. His shoulders sag and he slumps forward slightly as he sits down. But now, she is the one who is tense. She grabs the fabric of her jeans, bracing for his words. She had a bad feeling right from the start, now it’s even worse. Jason isn’t playing around. He is grave serious. More than that, he seems defeated.

Jason breathes deeply, looks at her. His eyes are cast in shadow. “Chances are high that I’m not your Jason.”


	2. Chapter 2

“So… that means what?” Barbara can’t help but stare at him. What does he know that he’s hiding from her?

“First off, don’t expect to get all answers you want from me.” Jason tells her with a smile. He has spread out on the cot more comfortably, his legs stretched out and his back against the wall behind him. “I’ll tell you what I want to tell you and that’s it.”

Barbara eyes him for a moment. He appears more playful, but there’s still tension in his body. And a nervous twitching in his feet. “Jason, they are your family, they are worried, because they love you. If you are not ‘our’ Jason, as you put it, they need to know that.” Besides, she isn’t willing to play games. 

“And they will. I’m not going to lie to you.” He shrugs and adjusts his position. He draws his knees up and leans forward towards her. The harsh light of the chamber casts dark shadows on his face and body. “Maybe your Jason is waiting for rescue and I won’t take that chance from him. I want ‘my’ family back, you want ‘your’ Jason back. I’m willing to cooperate to achieve that, win-win for both sides. We’ll talk, then you’ll help me figure out how to solve this.” He points one finger towards himself, then in her direction. “Just you and me, deal?”

“I’m not doing this alone, when there are about a dozen people itching to help you.” she insists. Jason’s family is part of this too, whether or not he likes it. He came here, of course they will get involved. “And I can’t keep them from bothering you. I’m not playing mediator here.”

“Not asking you to. If something feels fishy, you’ll make the right call. I trust your instincts.” There is that half-smile again, the cheeky grin across his face that makes her suspicious. With the shadows cast over his face, it looks dangerous. And not at all genuine. “You’re my go-to-person for solving this puzzle. If you want the others to help you, fine. But that’s your choice, not mine. So, deal?” He offers her a hand, like they should shake on it. 

A fews seconds go by. “Deal.”

“You can ask any questions you like, but I might not answer all of them.” Jason clarifies. He leaves his spot on the cot and walks up and down the chamber once, seemingly restless. He stops right in front of the glass door and looks down at her. “I won’t lie to you, I promise that, but if I don’t want to tell you something, I simply won’t.”

“I can work with that.” If she has to. She’d prefer it if Jason was honest with her, but he seems more nervous than devious. Whatever he’s hiding, it doesn’t seem to be born from evil intent. He is hiding something personal, something of importance. He’s acting tough in front of her, but his right leg still twitches nervously, as he stands in front of the door. And he still glances around the cave, watching the dark corners thoroughly. If anything, he seems scared.

“Okay. Here we go.” He returns to the cot, sits down once more. His hands rub against his thighs. “I vanished on January second.”

Barbara nods. It was the last day any of them had been in contact with Jason. Christmas and New Years had been a disaster, and everyone had been glad to part and go their separate ways once more. Barbara hadn’t been present, but she had heard all about it from Cass and Stephanie, who had both attended the annual Wayne Charity ball and the private Christmas party Alfred had insisted on. And not forgetting New Years night and the chaos several villains had plunged the city into. By the end of the night, Jason had punched Dick in the face and stormed off. This, Barbara had heard through their channels. Along with many angry words beforehand.

“Somehow, I was transported to a different reality. The Thomas-Wanye-is-Batman kind of reality. And I’ve been traveling through a few of them since then.” Jason’s gaze turns back to her, calculating, waiting. As answer, she just raises her eyebrows. Not totally improbable, but unlikely. “No need to raise your eyebrows. It has happened to other people before, either through magic or power or some sort of device. In my case, something or someone just plucked me out of my reality and threw me into a new one. Maybe for fun? Who knows.” Jason shrugs and leans back against the wall. 

“Any theories on what or who? Did you come across any clues during your travels?”

“First, I need to make sure that this is ‘my’ reality. Some were obviously not mine, others not so much.” He pauses for a moment, stares ahead at the opposite wall, caught in a memory. With a startle, he turns his attention back to Barbara. “So far, this feels like the right reality, but I have to make sure first. Then I’ll deal with whatever or whoever did this to me.”

Barbara tries to imagine it. What does it feel like to wake up in another reality? They have all read the reports on Flash and what happened to him. And Bruce has had to deal with similar cases as well, but it has always been a rare occurrence. That it has happened to Jason, of all people, is a weird coincidence. He usually tries to stay away from magic and the occult, if he can. She repeats his words inside her head, licks her lips. He is watching her, trying to appear relaxed. But she can see through his act. “How do you travel from one reality to the next?” she asks, turns her wheelchair slightly sight ways. It’s become very silent in the cave, the bats have settled down again after the disturbance. A quick glance at her watch reminds her of the time. Just 3 minutes left.

Jason smiles fondly, it nearly makes Barbara blush, it’s such an unusual reaction from him. 

“Of course you’d ask that. Let’s just say, that I found a way.”

“And you’re not going to tell me how?” she puts her hand against the glass door, checks the temperature. She’s starting to get cold.

“Exactly.” For a moment, Jason smiles again. This time not fondly, but with a touch of melancholy. His eyes dart across the floor, settle on his hands for a moment, his fingers clasped together, before he lifts his head towards her again. “It’s simple. If I don’t tell you, you can’t take it from me. Bruce is the kind of guy, who wants to solve every single mystery he comes across by himself. He wouldn’t let me leave, even if it became clear that this is not my reality. But If I don’t belong here, then I won’t stay longer than I need to.” He admits, easily.

And there Barbara finds the reason for his unfamiliar behavior. No wonder he is uncooperative, because she can’t deny that Bruce is a wild card here. He already put Jason into this cage and probably intends to keep him there for as long as he deems necessary. Maybe she would react the same way, if she were in his shoes. And Jason looks weary. It’s not only the scars Barbara can’t explain, it’s his slumped posture on the cot. As he’s leaning against the wall, he has curled his body inward. 6 months is a long time, if he spent it hopping through who knows how many different realities, trying to find the one he vanished from. A long journey is tiresome. And having to deal with Bruce’s paranoia on top of it isn’t making things any easier.

“How do we make sure this is your reality?” How many has he been to already? Maybe even thought he was home, before he found out he was wrong and was disappointed? “Fact-Checking isn’t accurate enough. And you are Jason Peter Todd, of course your DNA matches.”

“That’s the dilemma.”

“How exactly do you think I’m supposed to help you? We’d have a better chance if we let Zatanna or maybe Constantine take a look at you. A travel through realities, like you’ve described, could leave some sort of magical trace on you.” Barbara taps with her fingernails against the side of her wheelchair. They can’t prove Jason was really transported to another reality, she only has his word. But then, what reason would he have for lying to her?

“Earth-7 Bruce had the same thought. Tried that and, nope, no magical trace left at all.” Jason spreads his hands over his knees. He rubs the tight uniform several times, then taps his feet against the floor. 

“Earth-7?”

“Yeah, consecutive numbers for all different ‘earths’ I’ve been on.”

Barbara crosses her arms in front of her chest, stares at him, but he doesn’t take the bait. So he won’t even tell her what number this reality is.

After a few seconds of silence, Jason gets up again and walks back up to the glass door. He puts one palm against it, spreads his fingers wide, so she can see the scars clearly. Then he points behind Barbara to the medical unit stored there. “Take one of the blood samples B took from me earlier and check the radioactive wave signature of my cells. Compare it to the old samples you have. Our realities might not differ much, but their wave signature is different.”

She turns her head back into that direction for a few seconds. She can see a handful of blood vials lying on the metal table. Bruce has voiced the same theory before, but hasn’t been able to confirm it yet. “That method doesn’t seem accurate enough.” When Barbara turns back to him, he has crossed his arms over his chest as well. He’s still standing right in front of her, but looking over her head. “Because,” Barbara tries to think on how to best voice her concerns, “your travel through realities has altered the cells, even if you are originally from here. I can compare your blood to old samples, but the samples can’t match 100%.”

Their eyes meet and Jason smiles, as if he already knew what she was going to say. “And this is the part you won’t like.”

Barbara shakes her head. “Already don’t.”

“I’ll have to trust you.”

“Why?” she asks, bewildered. She turns her wheelchair around, her back towards Jason. His gaze is unnerving. Jason had never been shy to tell her that he respected her and while the others had trouble to get him to follow their orders or just advices, he has always valued Barbara’s opinion. But never with such blind trust. “You want to base your decision on the small probability, that I can predict what effect inter-dimensional travel has on your cells and detect the correct changes without proper comparison? That’s a stupid idea, Jason. We could just throw a coin and call it a day. Because that’s all I would be doing, I’d have to guess.” She turns back to him, her shoulders tense as she turns the wheelchair around. 

Jason hasn’t moved an inch. He still looks directly at her. His face isn’t tense, neither relaxed. “I trust you.” he tells her, without any hint of doubt in his voice. With his next words, his voice drops lower and he digs his nails into his arms. “I’ve seen realities so gruesome, I don’t want to remember them. I’ve met more than a dozen different Bruce Waynes. Not all of them were part of my family, not even all of them were nice. I want to get back to ‘mine’. I’m willing to take the risks. Are you?”

The stare at each other, the tension between them palpable. The ringing of Barbara’s alarm startles them both. The 6 minutes are over. Jason nods at her, before he turns around swiftly. He raises his hand towards the camera at the ceiling and flips it off.  
Barbara turns around. Their conversation is over.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks a lot for all the comments and kudos I've received so far!  
> I'll keep trying my best to make the story comprehensible and enjoyable.

“What did he tell you?” Dick pesters her, as soon as she steps out of the elevator. No doubt has has been waiting here for quite some time now. Barbara would bet he fled from Alfred’s watchful eye by pretending to go to the bathroom.

“Dick, I-” she is about to explain, but where to start? She hasn’t had time to think about all the information she got from Jason yet. “I need to discuss a few things with you. All of you, or at least everyone who is available right now. Cass and Steph are still in Europe?” An educational trip they had planned for a while. Barbara was supposed to join them, but other obligations had kept her in Gotham.

“Yes, but already on their way back.” Dick leans against the wall, one of his legs bent and pushed against the dark wood. As different as he and Jason are, they tend to use the same tactics, trying to appear casual and relaxed when they are anything but that. Just their reasons differ. Barbara knows how serious Dick takes his role as leader or role model, either in this family or out of it. Weakness to him is a personal defeat. For Jason weakness means danger. If you don’t at least appear strong, you’ll become vulnerable. Brothers indeed, she thinks.

“Their plane will land tomorrow evening, 09:45 pm.”

“Damian? Still on the Teen Titan’s mission?” At least Diana is with them, so they don’t have to worry.

“He might be back Tuesday. I managed to get a call through to him this morning. He knows about Jason, he’ll hurry.”

“Thanks, Dick. Tim?”

“Asleep.” Dick shrugs and stuffs his hands into his pockets. “Or working. He stayed up all night, checking files and cases to find something similar to Jason’s situation.” He pushes back from the wall and makes room for Barbara to wheel past him. Together they make their way down the hallway, back to the staircase at the main entrance. “Bruce has… kind of locked himself in the library.” Dick shrugs again. “I don’t know if he’s still there or if he fled from the window.”

Barbara doubts it. As long as Jason is here, unwilling to talk to Bruce or cooperate in any way with his suggestions, Bruce won’t leave. Unless a Crisis in Gotham forced him to. So far, it’s been quiet. It’s early evening, not even dark outside yet, and no villain has shown his face yet. She checks her phone and the GCPD reports of today. Nothing serious, a few muggings and attempted assaults; nothing to bother Batman with.

“I’ll go get Bruce.” She stops in front of the staircase. Dick can proceed upstairs from here, she’ll take the elevator in the study. “You get Tim and we’ll meet in the dining room. Then we’ll talk.”

Dick nods and walks up the stairs. She remains still, watching him until he has turned around a corner in the top hallway. Then she turns around as well.

 

####

 

“You cut me off.”

Bruce grunts, as soon as the door of the library closes behind her. He’s sitting at one of the reading desks in front of the shelves, books piled around him. The newest addition is a computer with a direct connection to the Batcomputer downstairs. It still shows the feed from Jason’s chamber. As Barbara gets closer to the desk, she can get a better look at the monitor. Jason is sitting on his cot, his hands folded together in his lap and he’s swinging his legs back and forth.

“Nice to see you too, Bruce.” She ignores his rude greeting and stops just a few steps in front of him. She can clearly see the books and papers he has piled around the monitor, but none of them seem familiar. Bruce is wearing one of his fancier suits, dark blue with a hint of shining black. He has already lost his tie, which lies abandoned beneath the desk. “Glad to see you’re still here and haven’t escaped through the window, like your son suspected.” She jokes.

Bruce just grunts again as answer. “What did he tell you?”

“No smalltalk, hm?” She stares at him, he stares back. He is turned slightly away from the monitor, but Barbara doubts he is unaware of what’s happening on screen. He’s tense, but contrary to Jason, he doesn’t twitch at all. He remains perfectly still. Which is enough to tell Barbara all she needs to know. “Yes, we talked. And yes, he did tell me what happened. We’ll go down, have dinner and discuss the situation. And then you are going to let Jason out of that cage.” She remains calm, but even after her discussion with Jason and her doubt that he might indeed be a Jason from a different reality, she doesn’t doubt his sincerity. If he had wanted to harm them, he would have had enough chances to do so. Why let himself be captured and locked away? If she were in his shoes, she would go crazy with boredom. Jason must feel the same. She sees no harm in giving him some more freedom.

“He could be a danger to himself and others. It’s a precaution I had to take. He asked you to cut surveillance, so he is hiding something.” Bruce retorts. He turns back to the desk and glares at the monitor for a few heartbeats, as if he could force Jason to react to it in some way. Nothing happens, Jason remains in the same position on the cot.

“Do you still think he’s a clone? A shape-shifting alien? All blood samples have shown the same result. And I know you, you didn’t just check the DNA match. Were there any anomalies? Anything that might suggest that he is not who he seems to be?” Barbara reaches for the first book on the desk. It’s a biography of a Brazilian doctor, who spend several months with a tribe from the Amazonas, claiming that the clan members had magical powers that could alter reality.

“A clone would have the same DNA. Artificial growth in a controlled environment would make him indistinguishable from the real Jason. His reluctance to speak to us might result from missing memories that couldn’t be implanted. Not talking to us minimizes the chances of us realizing something odd about him.” Bruce lists all arguments for his theory like a memorized poem. His voice doesn’t waver once and he keeps his eyes locked on the screen. He tries to act so damn nonchalant, it’s making Barbara’s blood boil. Right now, even without the cape and cowl, he’s Batman through and through. And Jason is a case he needs to solve, simple as that. But for his son, it’s obviously more than that. Barbara risk a glance at the monitor and finds that Jason has changed his position. He keeps walking up and down the chamber, his hands clasped together tightly. He’s still watching the corners of the cave intensely, but tries to act relaxed. It’s clear to see how tense his steps are and how rigid he holds his shoulders. If Barbara can see it, Bruce can as well. But he seemingly refuses to acknowledge it.

“Why would they clone the Red Hood?” she asks to break the tension that’s starting to form around Bruce’s shoulders. The jacket gets tight enough for the seams to stretch and she wonders, if he has put on additional muscle or if his age is just finally starting to catch up with him and he’s gaining weight.

It takes a moment, but he turns back to her. “If someone figured out Batman’s real identity, it’d be wise to clone someone close to him to gain access. Not too close, because the long absence of a family member would raise suspicion. Jason is the most logical choice.” Like before, Bruce has already thought this through. Once again, he calmly recites all arguments he could think of for this theory. “Red Hood claims to work alone and to have his own agenda, but he has been seen working with Batman enough times to doubt that claim. Which makes him a friend of Batman’s and in conclusion, Bruce Wayne’s. And legally…” at this, Bruce hesitates “Jason is dead. So whatever identity he currently uses wouldn’t be close family.”

His brows knit together. It’s a sore spot for Barbara as well, that they haven’t been able to figure out if Jason has an identity he usually goes by these days. All condos and warehouses he has either rented or bought, were paid under the name of recently deceased citizens. All of them were good, proper citizens of Gotham, so nobody has reason to look deeper into these transactions, if they come up on records concerning their estate. Jason has also always deposited a big enough chunk of money into their still active accounts, to prevent any heirs from digging deeper into their loved ones finances. The sums are high enough for the people to feel lucky and not too outrageous to cause doubts or trigger investigations.

“What did he tell you?” Bruce has once again turned towards the monitor. Jason has laid down on the cot and is staring at the ceiling. Once in a while he glances at the camera, his face just a neutral mask. Maybe he wonders if Bruce is watching him, maybe he already knows the answer and just wants to rile him up by being impassive. Nothing gets Bruce like indifference, either towards him, rules he has set or orders he makes.

This time, his words sound more like a plead than a command.

“If you insist…” Barbara sighs and turns around, her back towards Bruce, the computer and all the other evidence of his worry. “…but we are going to get dinner with everyone and we will discuss it. Neither you, Dick or Tim will run solo on this.” She makes her way back to the door, but doesn’t get far. A hand on her shoulder holds her back.

“Barbara.” He omits the ‘please’, but she can still hear it.

She shakes off his hand. Not in rude way, just to be able to turn around again. “He might not be our Jason.” Barbara tells him directly. “He claims to have traveled to different realities since the day he vanished. Something or someone transported him to the first reality the time he vanished and he has traveled through various ones since then, trying to get back. He wants to make sure that this is the reality he vanished from. And he asked me to help him.”

Bruce listens to her words, while remaining as stoic and still as he always does when listening to reports. She can see in his eyes how focused he is. He looks at her, but he isn’t seeing her. There are already images forming in his head, how and why this has happened to Jason. He probably recites every word Barbara has just said and tries to pick it apart. To be honest, she has done the same on her way up here.

“Help him how?” he asks, curious.

“I’m still working that out. I have a theory I need to test. And I’ll need your help.” He steps back and leans sideways against the desk behind him. He turns his head, focuses briefly on the screen, before he turns back to her. Barbara casts a quick glance at Jason as well. His eyes are closed, then he turns around, resting on his side, his front turned to the wall. The camera can only show his back.

“Work with me here, Bruce. You’ve probably already made up a hundred different scenarios in your mind on what happened and how this is going to resolve. I’ll need you to go them trough with me and find the most plausible one. Best case scenario, you locked your son away in the cave and he has more proof of your apparent paranoia. Worst case… we figure out how to send him back where he belongs and get our Jason back.”

She’s offering an olive branch, also for Jason’s sake. But she knows she has lost, when Bruce’s eyes narrow and he crosses his arms in front of his chest.

“If he is in any way connected to… our Jason missing, I can’t let him go. Jason’s disappearance and his appearance can’t be coincidences.”

“If we are not his family, then they are going through the same horrible months that we have. You are keeping their son from them.”

It’s a low blow, Barbara is aware of that. But Bruce is not above fighting dirty if he wants to achieve something. She’s just leveling the grounds. And as expected, he glares at her, at least for a couple of heartbeats, before he gets himself under control again. Maybe out of frustration or the need to distract himself he pushes several books aside on the desk, braces himself on the wood with his hands.

“He asked you to call me, to talk to him.” Barbara continues, not without feeling at least a bit guilty. She flattens the hem of her shirt against her thighs and stares at her moving fingers. It feels incredibly silent in the library. “He let you put him into that cage to prove a point. He’s here willingly and he hopes we can help him.”

The seconds tick by in silence. Bruce hasn’t moved from his position and neither has Barbara. She waits another minute, before she turns around and wheels back to the door. “We’ll be downstairs.”


	4. Chapter 4

When Barbara gets down to the Dining room, Tim and Dick are already waiting for her. Both are sitting at the dark wooden table, gesturing with their hands and talking quietly. As soon as they notice her, they turn silent and towards her. Tim does look even worse than Dick. His face is paler than it should be and his eyes are underlined with dark circles. It does appear that he hasn’t slept for the past few days, due to missions and the situation with Jason. He has been the most involved in this case, right after Bruce, because his best and worst character trait is how obsessed he can become with missions. Tim is like Bruce in that regard. If there’s a case to solve, he won’t stop until he does. 

Alfred has already removed one of the chairs to make room for her. He’s standing behind the table, close to the wall, his arms crossed behind his back. Covered plates with dinner are lined up beside him on a cart. It smells like chicken.

“Hey Tim.”

“Hi Barbara, it’s good to see you.” There’s a hint of a smile on Tim’s face, but it only lasts a second. It is unfortunate, but her quarrels with Dick, have affected her relationships with the others as well. She doesn’t come around to visit as much as she did before and while they still work with her as Oracle, she has missed a lot of Tim’s regular daily life. It’s the same for Damian too and would be for Stephanie as well, if she didn’t try to stay close and came to visit every week. Barbara is glad for Stephanie’s enthusiasm and that she manages to drag Cass with her on most visits. If not for her, Barbara would feel even more cut off from this family than she already does.

She is about to explain the situation to Tim and Dick, when the huge wooden door behind her creaks and steps approach the table. Bruce walks around the table and takes the place right across from her. He sits down perfectly still, places his hands in front of him and stares ahead right at her. It doesn’t make her as uncomfortable as it used to, she has had enough time to get used to Bruce’s intense stares, but it still makes her feel a bit nervous. Not only is Bruce staring at her, but so are Dick and Tim.

Barbara needs a moment to collect her thoughts, then she explains to Dick and Tim what she has already discussed with Bruce. Both listen quietly, without interrupting her. Alfred remains in his place, but he is also focused on her and her words.

Once she has finished, Tim leans back against his chair. “Different realities, hm? Sounds plausible.”

Dick taps his fingers against the wood of the table. “If he’s not our Jason, how did he end up here? Did someone make him a target to remove him from the picture? Or what other explanation could there be?”

“And who of his enemies would be able to do that?” Tim turns to Dick with a frown on his face. “Red Hood deals with mob crimes more than anything else. They don’t get involved with magic or the kind of technology needed for such a thing. Could have been an accident.” he shrugs.

Dick huffs at that and crosses his arms over his chest. “Accident, really? You think some higher cosmic entity got sloppy with their divine powers and blew Jason into another reality? Like “oops, my bad”? When has anything ever been a coincidence in our life?”

“Given Jason’s history, it is not so unlikely.”

Dick just glares at Tim, leans forward across the table as if he prepares to jump him any second. Barbara watches their interaction with concern. She knew about the tension between Dick and Tim that has formed for quite some time now. Dick has been Bruce’s partner the longest and he is also the oldest of them, which he often enough uses as justification for his authority. After Bruce, he often acts as leader of them and while this is fine with Damian, who does see Dick as an authority figure, Tim doesn’t. If Tim thinks he has a better approach to a given situation, he lets Dick know. Sometimes they can work out their differences; sometimes both of them are too stubborn to give in.

Surprisingly, Bruce stays silent as well. He watches both of them closely, but he hasn’t moved an inch so far. 

“I mean, we all know just a fraction about his resurrection.” Tim explains. “It was no wizard, no alien technology, no divine creature that we know of. He came back and none of us could figure out why or how.”

He waits a moment for Dick to react, before he continues. “I’m just saying, don’t rule out any possibility, until we’ve looked at them properly. I also don’t believe that it was all just some weird coincidence, but it could have been. Travelling to other realities is possible, we know that. His story might be true.”

For a few minutes, all of them remain silent. Dick has started to tap his fingers against the table again. The rhythmic ‘clack’ of his nails against the wood echoes in the vast room. “How do we make sure then?” he asks, directed at no one in particular. “Barbara,” he turns to her, presses his fingers flat against the table. “that theory you have, can it prove that Jason belongs here?”

Barbara thinks of the work that lies ahead of her, what equipment she might need and how long the process will take. “It can’t prove anything, only show us how likely it is, that he does belong here. But as I said, it can’t achieve 100% certainty.” She isn’t sure if she can come even close to that percentage. What if Jason’s blood cells have become instable? If they can’t last long enough for the spectrometer to finish the needed analysis, they’ll have nothing.

Up until now, Bruce has remained unusually quiet. With sudden movement, he stands up from the chair. All eyes turn to him. His face is grim, his posture tense. “99% probability is not enough. I have already contacted the Justice League and asked for assistance.”

They all stare at him. He is still wearing his tailored suit, but there is no doubt it is now Batman, who stands before them. And this is his investigation, no matter what all of them might think. He expects to call the shots, to run this operation like he would most other missions. Barbara might be prepared to challenge him on that, but she can see, that neither Tim nor Dick are willing to risk a confrontation. At least not yet. Both their faces are as tense as Bruce’s. She can see Dick’s fists clenched in his lap. Tim’s fingers on the table are clenched as well. She can’t imagine what has happened before she arrived. Jason had been with them for several hours already, before they had called her. 

She turns towards Bruce, waits for him to meet her gaze. “This is a family matter, Bruce.” Jason surely wouldn’t want to be guinea pig for the Justice League. That might be enough to make him run.

Bruce’s eyes narrow. For a second he glares at Barbara, then turns around and stands behind the chair. “I won’t bet Jason’s safety on a “maybe”. If he is not who he claims to be, then our Jason is still gone. And I will make sure we find him.” He retorts, his voice more a growl than anything else. The seams on his suit threaten to pop again, he’s gripping the back of the chair with that much force and tension. “Barbara, test his cells for their wave signature and let us know how close they are to the samples from the archive.”

For now, she’ll let it slide. They are not Bruce’s minions, he can’t order them around as he pleases. But this is no ordinary mission, so for now, she’ll play along. And she can see in Dick’s and Tim’s face, that they have the same thought. They can play along, at least for Jason’s sake. “I’ll need to use the lab at Wayne Tower. I’ll have to run a few simulations on cell degeneration first.” She can work the fastest there without being interrupted.

Bruce nods. “I’ll inform Lucius. Tim, go through the archive and search for similar inter-dimensional incidents, especially with victims who don’t possess powers themselves. Send out interrogation requests to the heroes and authorities involved and forward me the reports. You’ll have timed access to the Justice League archives as well. Use my office upstairs, I’ll set up a direct connection.”

Tim nods, stands up and hurries from the room. 

“Dick, I’ve asked Clark to check if Jason might be involved in Cadmus in any way. Check the analysis of Connor’s blood samples for any anomalies that might be found in Jason’s as well and thus link him to the cloning procedure. Clark will bring all documents we have collected on Project Cadmus so far, see if there might be a lead.”

Contrary to Tim, Dick hesitates a few seconds. He’s about to say something to Bruce, but the other just glares at him before he can even start. So Dick closes his mouth again, nods and leaves the room as well. 

“Alfred,” Bruce turns towards him. He speaks a bit softer to him than he did to the others. “I need you to talk to him, check his memories, if you can find anything that doesn’t match the events that actually happened. There might be missing memories or contradictions.” Even his gaze has turned softer as he looks at Alfred. He knows it’s a lot to ask of someone like Alfred, who has raised Jason as much as he himself did. If anyone can understand Bruce’s feelings, it’s Alfred. But whereas Bruce can stay upstairs in the library and observe Jason from afar, trapped by his own fear that it really isn’t his son that has returned, Alfred will need to go down and face that fear directly. It should be Bruce doing it, no matter how conflicted he feels about it. But when it comes to his family, Bruce can be a coward. And Alfred is the kind of person who doesn’t even hesitate a second to do what others can’t.

“Don’t worry, Master Bruce, I’ll gladly talk to him and spend time together. May I suggest we allow him some freedom while he’s here?” Alfred asks as politely as he can, considering the situation.

“Absolutely not. I understand your feelings, Alfred, but we have to be cautious. I can’t let him out of the cave until we’re sure what we are dealing with.” Bruce steps around the table, walks up to Barbara’s side. “Get down to the cave and get the blood samples you need. I’ll call a driver to pick you up and drive you to Wayne Tower. Lucius will expect you.”

She nods and together they leave the dining room. She and Alfred share a quick look before the door closes behind her. Seems like once again Alfred has cooked dinner for no one but himself. Maybe Jason can enjoy it instead.

 

####

 

Barbara hurries to get the samples from the cave. She tries to stay out of Jason’s view and remain as quiet as possible. She’s not trying to hide but maybe it’s better if Jason isn’t aware, that she came down once more. Apart from him getting bored on his own, he might want to have another conversation and Barbara hasn’t completely figured out their last one yet. No need to add to that confusion for now.

Alfred is waiting or her when she comes back up again. The driver has already arrived. He is one of Lucius’ personal chauffeurs, waiting inside a black van, equipped with a ramp she can use herself. She appreciates Bruce’s thoughtfulness in this matter. 

“Ma’am?” the driver asks her as Barbara adjusts her belt. “Is there anywhere else you need to go before Wayne Tower?”

Thinking of it, she does. She lets the driver know to stop at the clocktower to pick something up. There are notes she should take with her. The lab at Wayne Tower is equipped with top notch technology, but it is missing a link to the Batcomputer. She could access it from Lucius’ office, but taking the samples and results back and forth between office and lab is tedious. She’d rather bring her archive with her.

The drive towards the city in uneventful. It has gotten dark and started to rain. But when doesn’t in rain in Gotham? With all of this water surrounding the city and a line of mountains right behind it, it’s no wonder the weather is like this most of the time. Barbara watches the lights of the other cars pass by. She hears police sirens in the distance and wonders if Bruce went into the city tonight or if he’ll stay at the manor. 

When they reach the clocktower, it has at least stopped raining. She hurries upstairs to get what she needs, while the driver waits for her. It’s a mess inside, she hasn’t had time to clean yet. Clothes are spread everywhere, as well as gadgets and other personal items. But while the rest of the place could use some cleansing, the computers are sparkling clean. Well, she has priorities. 

Barbara checks her phone, finds new messages from Black Canary and Stephanie. One doesn’t require her to answer, it’s just a request to catch up sometime. The other does however. It’s a picture of Stephanie and Cass in a hotel room, right in front of a window. It’s raining strongly outside. The caption reads: ‘There’s a storm all over France. We’re stranded in Paris. Will let you know when we can get back. Weather forecast predicts the storm to last at least 2 days’. Another picture is attached at the bottom. The two girls are sitting on a bed, drinking… is that red wine? ‘Celebrating Jason’s return. Keep us updated. Or send B to pick us up.’

It’s not that she doesn’t trust them, but she still checks the weather report for Paris. There is a storm and the airports are indeed closed. She forwards the message to Bruce, let him decide if he wants to pick the girls up or leave them be for now. She texts both Steph and Cass a ‘thumbs up’-emoji for the first picture and ‘thumbs down’ for the second.

Then she boots up the main computer to transfer part of her archive to her phone, to take with her to the lab. The police reports of today come up first, as she has set up. Nothing worrying has happened so far, it’s a quiet night for Gotham. Finger’s crossed that it will stay that way. The most recent report mentions a dark, cloaked figure appearing at the scene of a robbery in a dark alley. The victim didn’t see the masked figure clearly, but it had ears like Batman does, so they filed it under his tag. Seems like Bruce is already out in the city.

Before she begins the transfer, Barbara files two reports under her ‘possible investigation’ tag - one is a missing person report, the other the robbery of a supplier for medical equipment. She is about to mark all files on Cadmus, inter-dimensional travel and anything related for transfer, when she notices an unsorted audio file in the archive. It just sits there, outside of any sorting system, without tags or notes attached to it. It isn’t hers, she’d remember if it was. The file’s time stamp dates only a couple of hours back, but there is no breach of security she can find in the system. It must have been put there by someone who had gained access to the network without alerting the security system. But how?

“Where did you come from…” Barbara murmurs, while she stares at the little file icon. To prevent the system from becoming corrupted by the suspicious file, in case it has a virus attached to it, she sets up a virtual sandbox for it to open in. She has to know what data it contains. The audio file plays, echoing back from the speakers quietly. It’s the mechanical voice of a virtual mobile assistant, stating a string of numbers and letters. 

39 31 44 N 74 19 5 W 551 7:38

It’s coordinates, at least part of the message is. But what does 551 7:38 mean? Barbara pulls up a map on the monitor, zooms in on the coordinates. It’s just outside of Gotham City, the intersection where highway I-195 connects to the major inner city road leading uptown. 7:38 might be a time stamp, either a.m. or p.m.. Has something happened on this intersection at these times? As she’s about to tap into the surveillance feed of one of the Wayne satellites - which is also connected to the city’s police department traffic cameras - she realizes what 551 stands for. In Gotham City it’s the traffic and transportation hotline, giving you around the clock updates on traffic jams, road blocks and alternative routes for any of the former issues. They also have a website with feeds of several traffic cameras, showing the current traffic on that stretch of road. 

One major problem Gotham has is the traffic. It’s a big city, a lot of people live here and it was build on islands, so the incoming and outgoing routes of the city are limited. There are traffic jams every day in certain parts of the city and I-195 is one of them. If 7:38 really is a time stamp, something must have happened on this intersection. Barbara connects to the city’s surveillance feed and pulls up the camera roll of this morning, 7:00 to 8:00 a.m.. She speeds up the video, focusing on the vehicles crossing the road. Nothing uncommon happens. She watches the video once more, this time she keeps her eye on the traffic signs and the background of the road. Still, nothing.

Then she checks the feed between 7:00 and 8:00 p.m.. As the video speeds through, at 7:38 the screen becomes black, comes back again, turns black once more, in rapid succession. She slows the video down to regular speed and watches it several times, focusing on the times the screen turns black, as if the camera was momentarily cut off from its power source. There’s definitely a pattern to it. 

After the third time, Barbara has decrypted the message.

‘Beware Wayne trust Batman’ flickers across the screen in Morse code.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for the kudos and comments! Really appreciate them~
> 
> I'll be away for a several days at the end of this week / weekend, so updates might take a while.

“Master Jason.” Alfred walks up to the chamber, a tray with food and water balanced in his arms. There is a hatch at the side of the chamber, which leads to a closed off vent in the side of the wall. He puts the tray inside the vent and closes the hatch again. Once the outer hatch is shut, another hatch opens inside, allowing Jason to reach for the tray.

Jason however ignores the tray and walks up to the glass door instead. There is a genuine smile on his face as he and Alfred stand in front of each other. “Alfred, thanks for bringing me dinner.” He sounds excited. “Smells delicious. Chicken?”

Alfred returns his smile. He has resumed a more relaxed posture, his hands clasped behind his back. “Coq au Vin, yes. I assume you still like it? It used to be one of your favorites.” Hopefully that is still the case. Jason hasn’t been around the manor as much as Alfred would like and he has grown a lot within the last years; not just physically, but mentally as well. And tastes might change. Dishes children find repulsive can become their favorites in later years. And Alfred hasn’t had the chance to catch up with all the changes Jason has gone through after his resurrection. 

Jason leans with his shoulder against the wall right beside the glass door. “Still is. So, are you trying to figure out if I’m still me by presenting me with things that I used to like? To test my reaction?” he doesn’t sound reproachful, but the smile on his face fades and gives room to weariness. “I anticipated that much. Bruce is still… Bruce. I guess I’ll be stuck down here a bit longer, right?” Jason shrugs, he probably already knows the answer to his question.

Alfred regrets so much when it comes to Jason. Not only the role he has played in raising and ultimately failing him, but also his own loyalty towards Bruce. There had been so many opportunities to refuse Bruce’s orders on how to deal with Jason, but in the end, though Alfred may have questioned Bruce’s methods, he had never tried to stop him. For him, Bruce will always be that 8 year old child that had needed someone to rely on. And now, decades later, Alfred still wants to be that person. But how can he be the same person for Jason? 

“I’m very sorry about the situation.” He apologizes, because it does pain him greatly to see Jason locked up in the cave. “I suggested he let you upstairs, to at least spend time in a more comfortable environment, but Master Bruce is concerned for your safety.” 

“And his own, I bet.” Jason snorts, taps his fingernails against the glass. The sound is dull and scratchy. “It’s okay, Alfred, no hard feelings. I’m glad he let you down here, at least.”

If anyone asked Alfred what Jason’s greatest virtue is, than he’d answer his ability to forgive. Many people have wronged him and yet he is able to give them a second chance, if they ask for it. Alfred himself included. 

“I’m sure Master Bruce knows I’m capable of looking after myself. He wouldn’t imply that you are a threat to my safety.” It is a ridiculous thought, but one Bruce might have had at some point. He doesn’t trust himself around Jason, why should he trust others? 

“No, probably not.” Jason laughs at his words. “Thanks for dinner. Your cooking has always been great, I missed it.”

“We missed you.” Alfred can’t keep the words from slipping out. Hopefully he isn’t the first to tell Jason this. Clone, alien or whatever else, if he isn’t their Jason, there’s no harm in telling him that they miss theirs. But if he is their Jason and no one as much as welcomes him back, they’ll regret their behavior once they realize that mistake. Alfred won’t let that happen. “These past few months have put quite a strain on this family and we are glad that you are back.”

“It’s good to be back, honestly.” Jason quickly averts his eyes and shrugs. He pushes back from the wall, walks the few steps to the other side of the chamber, his back facing Alfred. “Don’t tell B or the others that I said that. But I missed them too.” Alfred can see his fingers twitching at his sides. “I’ve seen enough other versions of them to know how much more fucked up it could have been. This here? It’s good.” When he turns around again, his eyes are cast downward. Despite his words, he doesn’t appear that thrilled to be back.

He can’t help Jason much while he is locked in this chamber, but there’s one thing he can do, that most members of this family are pretty poor at. Alfred smiles and gestures between them, beckoning Jason closer again. “If you wish to share your story, I’d be more than happy to listen.”

“Actually…” Jason steps up to the door once more. He keeps his eyes on the ground, his hands rub against his thighs. “I do have something I’d like you to hear.” He raises his head, looks straight at Alfred. His smile is a bit strained. “I never thanked you for all you’ve done. So, here it is.” A shy pause. “Thanks, Alfred.”

“No need to thank me-” a bit embarrassed, Alfred tries to deflect the praise, but Jason interrupts him. 

“But I do. Not only for taking care of me, Dick and the others.” He puts his hand right above his heart. “But of Bruce as well. You did your best, to be guardian, father and friend to a quite troublesome guy. If it weren’t for you, he’d be lost. And in conclusion, all of us as well.”

“Master Jason, I-” Alfred is at loss for words. How does one react to such words? Especially if they come from someone like Jason, who always had trouble expressing his needs in front of him and Bruce, out of fear they might abandon him again if he proved to be too troublesome. And what if this person isn’t their Jason? What if it’s a trick to play into his feelings? 

“Remember my first birthday, that I spend at the manor?” Jason seems to sense his struggle and quickly interrupts his thoughts. He moves from the glass door to the cot and sits down on the edge of it, his legs stretched out before him, his back hunched slightly. He turns his head to look at Alfred, who is frozen to his spot and can’t bring himself to move. “I refused any of the presents Bruce had gotten me, and hid in the closet of my room, crying for hours.”

Alfred nods. The tight feeling in his throat intensifies. “Yes, I remember.” Every single second of it.

“I was afraid.” Jason admits quietly, stares ahead at his finger. He picks at the material of his white suit with his nails, right above his left knee. “That day I began thinking of Bruce as my new father and not just Batman or the guy-who-lets-me-live-at-his-place.” With a sigh he stretches his arms above his head. “And even though my own old man was nobody to be proud of, he was still my father and replacing him with someone else felt like betrayal.” He risks a quick glance at Alfred. Through the harsh light inside the chamber, Alfred can see his eyes glisten. “You came looking for me. You sat down in front of the closet and talked to me about the dinner you planned on cooking that night, asked me what I would like for dessert and if there was any other dish I’d rather eat instead. And I thought-” he pauses and leans back against the wall behind the cot with his eyes closed “-‘this is my grandfather, the first grandfather I have and I get to keep him and I love him’. And I just couldn’t stop crying.”

“Master Jason-” overwhelmed by his own emotions, Alfred places a shaking hand against the cold glass door. 

Jason doesn’t react. He simply stares ahead. Not even at the floor or wall in front of him, rather into an imagined void. Alfred watches him, as his eyes seem to water and his hands begin to shake. Suddenly Jason turns around on the cot and lies down on it, his front facing the wall. His shoulders and back are tense, as he presses his face against his arms. “It’s getting late, Alfred.” His voice is raspy, muffled by the arm pressed against his face. “I think I’ll get some sleep. Thanks for… keeping me company.”

Alfred remains still for another moment. “Very well. Goodnight.” He manages to make it upstairs to the kitchen, before a tear can escape. 

 

####

 

Superman flies to Gotham as soon as he’s able to. 

It rarely happens that Bruce asks for help concerning any matter, but especially when it involves his family. He’s secretive, even towards Clark, when it comes to his loved ones. In a way Clark understands his feelings. Sure, the villains he usually deals with are not any nicer than the ones in Gotham, but he and Bruce are so different that villains tend to approach them differently as well.

Most people on earth - and even beyond - know how powerful Superman is. Many consider him the most powerful being on earth (though Clark doubts that claim, knowing all the great and powerful people he has worked with throughout the years). If someone beats him, through their own power or invention, they ultimately become the most powerful being on earth. It’s a matter of pride for those who try, so the attempts to harm his family and the people he works with have been few.

Batman is a different matter. Most people suspect him to be a regular human being. Sure, he has fancy gadgets and a ton of money to burn on equipment, but he has no known superpower (there are conspiracy theories though, but only a small number of people tend to believe those). Batman’s mind is his weapon. So villains aim to outsmart him, by leaving clues on their plans and figuring out who his family and friends are to show that they are always a step ahead of the greatest detective of all times. Everyone he lets close is a potential danger to his family. If Clark had to deal with that on a regular basis, he’d surely act the same way Bruce does.

As he lands in front of the cave entrance, deep in the woods right outside of Gotham, the tunnel instantly opens for him. It’s an honor to be able to enter the Batcave whenever he feels like it. He and Diana are the only ones Batman has entrusted with his security codes, outside of his family. And Clark only uses that knowledge when he has to.

He finds Bruce waiting inside the cave, standing in front of the huge set of monitors he has stuck unto one of the rocky walls. He is wearing his costume, minus the cowl. The news feed of the Gotham City Police Department is running on the screen. 

“Hey.” Clark greets him and receives only a grunt as answer. “How are you feeling?”

“Don’t ask me that, Clark.” Bruce grunts again. He is typing away on the keyboard in front of him. Seems like he is transferring files from one part of his archive to another. Clark has no idea what the files are about, they are just titled with numbers and letters. 

“You’re here to help me, no distractions, no stalling.” Bruce turns to him and gestures towards the left side of the wide table he’s standing at. There he has piled up a bunch of folders and papers. ‘Red 0102’, the code for Jason’s disappearance, is scribbled on all of them. Clark takes the bag he has shouldered and places it among them. Everything about project Cadmus that they haven’t put into the Justice League digital archive is inside. These are the files that, apart from information on the cloning process, also contain notes on Clark’s identity, his family and friends, as well as personal reports on his daily life.

Clark trusts the other Justice League members, but Bruce had advised him to keep those files out of the archive. At least as long as some of the members aren’t aware of his secret identity yet. And he’s probably right. Clark had briefly toyed with the idea of entrusting Bruce with them, to keep them in his personal archive, but once again Bruce had insisted, that he keeps them himself. “You never know,” Bruce had warned him “who might get access to my files. Don’t make yourself vulnerable on two fronts.” That was probably smart. At least like this, nobody targeting Batman could find out Superman’s identity by accident.

The cave is filled with the noise of flapping wings and the sound of rushing water. But underneath that, Clark can hear a second heartbeat not far away. He turns towards Bruce.

“But I am asking you. And I will again, until you talk to me.” He stares at the side of Bruce’s head until the other turns in his direction. “You need to talk about this, Bruce. I can tell when you are distressed.” Because his heartbeat is fast, irregular, as if he’d run several miles. 

Bruce’s eyes narrow. He glares at Clark for a few seconds, then turns back to the monitor. “Focus on the case. I called you here for help.”

Clark sighs. He leans back against the desk, his fingers grip the edge of the dark metal. “Look, I get it. Probably better than anyone else. Your son goes missing and that is already horrible, but… to get him back, the chance being that he is a clone-”

The typing stops abruptly. “You better stop talking, Clark. Enough of this.”

“Are you done threatening me?” Clark stares ahead at the opposite wall of the cave, the same way Bruce stares at the monitor in front of him.

“Not a threat.”

“When your son found Connor, you were the one who helped me through it.” His voice echoes inside the cave. “I was emotionally unprepared to deal with the situation.” He closes his eyes, remembers the rage and confusion that had befallen him. “You helped me. And I want to do the same for you. Be distressed, allow yourself to be. We’re all here, at your side.” He has to tear his fingers away from the metal table before he leaves any dents. He waits for Bruce to react in any way, but the only sound in the cave are still the flapping wings, water and two out of sync heartbeats.

“I… can’t let myself.” Bruce mutters. Clark can hear the leather of his clenched fists. “Jason might be in danger. I need to solve this. Should have done so already.”

“You are the world’s greatest detective, doesn’t everyone say that?” he tries to sound light, optimistic, given the current situation. Jason is back. Clark can’t bring himself to think of a trick or false hope here, for now, it’s Jason, he’s not injured or sick, so why not celebrate a little? “And your sons and daughter aren’t so bad themselves. If anyone can solve this, it’s you. Whatever happens, you have them. You have me.” He gets a raised eyebrow for this, as he looks in Bruce’s direction. Declarations of love or friendship aren’t Bruce’s forte, but Clark has no problem with them. They are friends, he just wants Bruce to know, that he can count on him, whatever happens. “Okay, okay, I’m going to shut up now, I just needed you to hear that.”

Bruce has his lips pressed together tightly. He nods, acknowledging Clark’s offer without reacting to it, before he gestures to the bag Clark brought with him. “You brought the information I asked you for?”

“Of course. I checked the files again before coming here, in case I missed something the first time, now that we are looking for hints on a specific case.” He wishes he could have been able to do more. It doesn’t feel like he has helped in any way. “I found no connection. But, really, you should be asking Connor any questions. He was obsessed with his origin. He hunted down all information he could find on Cadmus. He’s read the files a hundred times, if not more.” At least for now his obsession has declined, but Clark can understand his feelings. Once he had been just as obsessed with his own origin. Who was he? Where did he come from? He had loving parents and a wonderful home on earth, but still… there had been this nagging feeling inside of him. Had his parents not wanted him? Why had they sent him to earth?

For Conner, it must have been even worse. Because he had been created for the sole purpose of fighting Superman and coming out on top. Not a great meaning for any existence. With a sigh Clark shakes off these thoughts and grabs the bag from the pile he placed it on earlier. “There is no information on other clone lines. As far as we know, Luthor only used my and his DNA in his project. Connor is the only clone alive of his project line, as Bizzaro is of his.” Clark reaches inside, takes out the papers and hands them over to Bruce.

Without a word, Bruce grabs them, flips through the notes quickly. “They did have countless DNA samples of politicians and monarchs as cover.” He mutters.

Yes, Luthor had been thorough. Most samples had been donated, for medical purposes, like organ cloning, to keep appearance of a perfectly normal medical facility, but there also had been many illegally acquired samples. Mostly of politicians and members of rich or influential families. Until now they haven’t been able to disclose their purpose. What had been Luthor’s plan with those? 

“We didn’t find any samples of you or your family.” Clark reminds Bruce. “We checked all the Justice League members and associates, several times even. Chances are very slim that we missed something.” Which makes it nearly impossible for a clone of Jason to exist. They would have found at least a hint of that case in the files. 

“Connor’s growth took about 12 months, from cell cluster to fully formed human, the following 4 months were used for information input. Given the medical advance in these past years, they could have shortened the process by 43% or even more.” Bruce places the papers on top of the desk. He leans forward and braces his hands against the dark metal. His eyes are glued to the black letters on the white sheets. Clark can hear his heartbeat hammer. 

He watches his friend for a few more moments. It’s practically impossible to ease Bruce’s mind, when he worries. Whatever Clark might say now, won’t be of much help. Many people might assume Batman is a lone wolf, but it has been decades since Bruce had been on his own. After he had completed his training before becoming Batman, someone had always been by his side, helping and supporting him. Clark likes to think he is one of those people.

Mimicking Bruce’s stance at the desk, Clark leans forward as well and glances at the papers. “You think someone was able to speed up the process and create a full clone within 6 months?”

“Unless something messed up their schedule.” Bruce turns to him, pushes the files together into one pile. He straightens, turns his back towards the desk and walks a few steps away from the monitor. “It’d be unwise to kidnap the subject you want to replace and have them missing several months before the replacement is ready.” He stops, contemplates for a moment. Clark watches the tense movement of his shoulders. 

Bruce grunts. “I’ll check Luthor’s finances.” As he walks back to Clark, his face is grim and his expression determined. “Funding of a project this size would leave evidence behind.” He briefly places a hand on Clark’s shoulder. It’s as close to a ‘Thank you’ as Bruce gets. “If I need anything else, I’ll be in touch.”

Clark smiles. “Or course, glad to be of help.”


	6. Chapter 6

Hours have gone by and Dick can feel the strain on his eyes. He has just finished reading up on the Cadmus files in the archive. Connor’s blood samples contain no obvious indicator of a cloning process. At least his human DNA doesn’t. Kryptonian DNA is still mostly a mystery, both to Bruce and Clark himself. When comparing it to Connor’s, Jason’s blood looks the same. Even when he compares each little string of their DNA, there’s nothing similar to them, even with Connor’s Kryptonian heritage.

With a sigh he leans back in his chair. He turns his head and stares at the files Bruce brought him from Clark. Many passages are blacked out. Dick can tell the ones he received are just copies and he wonders what kind of information Bruce deemed unimportant for him to know, but still crucial enough to make sure they were unrecognizable. In theory, all of them are Bruce’s partners, but often enough he withholds information on certain cases or missions, because he thinks he knows better. It was one of the reasons Dick needed to step away from Bruce, from Robin and take on his own name. Bruce will forever treat them all like kids, because that’s what they were when they entered his life. And just like any parent, he has trouble moving on from that father-kid relationship.

It’s understandable, Dick doesn’t hold it against him, it’s just the natural part of any parents-children relationship. But in their line of work, this can cause a lot of trouble. 

Maybe Tim has fared better than he did. He is as persistent as Bruce (some would call it stubborn) and often enough he finds new aspects others haven’t thought of during missions. Dick makes sure to sort the files into a neat pile again before he leaves to search for Tim. He should still be in Bruce’s main office.

As he makes his way upstairs, he can hear Alfred downstairs, vacuuming the curtains and rugs. It’s his way of distracting himself. Dick smiles to himself, thinking of all the times Alfred has done this while he was still living in the manor. They all are a bunch of weirdos. He doesn’t knock on the office door, just steps inside without warning. Bruce doesn’t use this office much, but it has all the equipment one might need. Either to operate Wayne Enterprise or even their nightly activities. If the Batcave and the Clocktower are unavailable, or if Bruce just needs to act all CEO, this office can do the job. 

As expected, Tim is hunched over on Bruce’s Laptop, typing loudly. Dick stands right behind him and peers over his shoulder. Tim stops instantly, leans back against the back of chair and looks up at him. He looks exhausted. “Found something new?”

Dick shakes his head. “No, nothing. I went over the Cadmus files several times and checked Connor’s blood for anything unusual. It looks normal, just like Jason’s does. Hate to admit it, but Luthor did a pretty good job. Nothing suggests they are merely clones.” He turns around to lean against the desk. 

Tim’s face darkens. “Not merely, Dick. That sounds rather offensive, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, sorry.” Dick quickly apologizes for his words, ducks his head a little. “You know what I mean, right? He’s as human and kryptonian, as he could get.” He sighs and stretches his legs a little. 

“My research didn’t get us much further either.” Tim admits after a few moments of silence. He turns the laptop towards Dick. On the screen are all files linked to inter-dimensional travel and related incidents. Dick goes over a few notes quickly. No match found for Jason’s description. 

“I got a few reports in, but they all state the same.” Tim mumbles, his arms crossed before his chest. He stares right past the laptop at the opposite wall. “That some kind of magic was involved. There are a handful of individuals, who are able to shift realities or travel to another through different devices, but all known individuals were subdued before Jason’s disappearance.” He looks up at Dick, a rather odd expression on his face. “It’s the same with individuals who can wield different kinds of magic. Especially those who would hold a grudge against Batman or any of us. All have been captured by the Justice League and are kept in confinement.” He turns his head back towards Dick.

“A new player on the field?” Dick muses. He types a few words into one of the files concerning Cadmus. No lead found yet.

“Seems most logical.”

Dick has had the same thought, but there’s still so much that doesn’t make sense. Why target Jason? “Whoever it is, why wouldn’t he kill Jason, given the chance? Or capture him? Why send him to another reality instead? To take him hostage?” 

“But was he even a hostage?” Tim says, pulls the laptop back around. He starts typing again, pulling up a camera feed from the cave. He turns the screen back towards Dick “I don’t think Barbara told us everything.” The video starts playing, Dick can hear the sound of Barbara’s wheelchair echo through the cave. She stops right in front of Jason’s chamber. The camera shows Barbara’s back and is pointed directly towards the glass door of the chamber. Jason gets up from the cot and stands right in front of the door. The screen flickers. Just a fraction of a second, but it’s obvious. Their cameras never do that, unless they’ve been tampered with. Tim presses a few more buttons and another camera angle pops up. This one shows the chamber from above. The same thing happens here. Jason gets up, stands in front of the door, then the screen flickers. After that, it only shows Barbara and Jason standing in front of each other. The screen flickers once more, then Barbara leaves and Jason flips off the camera with a grin.

“I found this looped cycle on all cameras from the cave.” Tim elaborates. Yeah, Dick saw it himself. That was clearly not what happened down there. Whatever they talked about, it was off records and Barbara made sure it stayed that way. But why?

“So…” Dick wonders, “what did they talk about?”

Tim grabs the laptop, shuts it off. He scratches his chin and leans back in the chair, his shoes bump against the leg of the desk. “Jason has the funds and knowledge to check his theory himself, he could test his blood cells on his own. But he chose to call for us as soon as he landed here.” Tim nods to himself. He has crossed his arms over his chest again “Barbara is a genius and Batman has all the equipment available she might need. Jason lets us do the work, because he knows it will be faster than if he worked alone. And if he doesn’t belong here, he’ll move on, minimal time wasted. Whoever send him to the first reality surely didn’t intend for Jason to find a way out of it. And Jason is keeping that method to himself, so nobody can take it away.”

Dick takes a moment to reflect on Tim’s words. He is right, Barbara has not told them how Jason managed to travel through various realities. He wonders, did he tell Barbara and she just omitted that fact from her story, or didn’t he tell her either? “That… does sound reasonable and like something Jason would do. And Bruce locked him in the chamber in the Batcave to ensure that he doesn’t vanish.” No way Bruce has missed that detail while talking to Barbara. Whatever his reason was for putting Jason into the chamber in the first place, now it surely is to keep him here.

“I’m sure Jason knew Bruce would figure it out quickly.” Tim hands Dick a protein bar from his jacket, his own stomach rumbles. Yeah, they forgot to eat dinner. “I don’t know yet why he came here in the first place, but I doubt Jason plans to stay here during his entire trip. If it’s true, what Barbara said, and he has no idea who put him here, then he can’t trust anyone outside our circle.”

Dick studies the packaged bar for a moment and tries to recall anything else unusual about Jason’s appearance. He was the one who had reached him first. “His helmet was the only thing he had on him. You think he has something in there that could help him escape? It is pretty busted up though.” Finding his brother butt-naked on a rooftop had been weird enough, but it is also strange, that he only had his helmet with him. And it had scratches and black patches (maybe from fire?) all over it. And Jason had been without any weapon on top of that.

“He knows the Batcave as well as we do. I’m sure he has something on him, just in case.”

“We can’t check the helmet without Bruce noticing.” Dick puts the bar into his pocket. He stretches his arms back on the desk, leans with his back against the rim and taps his fingers against the wood. “He is keeping a close eye on Jason and the cave in general. He’ll probably check the helmet himself soon enough, if he hasn’t already. Aren’t we supposed to work together in this? Why does it feel like everyone is doing their own thing?” he huffs. Leave it to this family to never take the direct route. What else did he expect?

“Because we are, Dick.” Tim sounds weary. He pushes back from the desk, stands up from the chair and walks over to one of the big windows overlooking the garden behind the house. It is pitch black outside. You can’t see Gotham’s lights from this side of the house, but there are tiny specks of light in the distance, either cars or planes racing away from the city. “Everyone of us seems to think they can deal with the situation best. And because we disagree on certain aspects, we hide them from each other.”

Dick follows Tim to the window. They stand side by side, watching the darkness in front of them mix together with their reflections. “You think you could deal with this best?” he eyes Time curiously. They are a team, are they not? At least for now, they should be able to put their differences aside. True, Dick himself has left the family to pursue his own goals, but he’ll always come back if the need arises. And what better time to stick together again then a family matter?

Tim turns his head slightly and meets his gaze. “You don’t?” he raises one eyebrow. “Point is, we all have reason to believe so.” He turns back towards his own reflection. “Bruce always thinks he knows best. You have known him the longest and you don’t have as much history between you as he and Bruce do. Barbara is like a sister to all of us, but she has a life outside this cave and manor and in that way, she can relate to Jason’s current lifestyle the most.”

“Don’t leave yourself out, Tim. I’m curious to hear why you think yourself best suited to handle the situation.” He turns around, leans his back against the cold glass behind him. 

“He dislikes me most, he has no reason to pretend with me and be mindful of my feelings.” Tim states, like he would any other fact he’s found in a history or science book.

Before Dick can react to his words, Tim has already turned around as well and walks back to the desk. He puts the laptop back into the drawer and pushes the chair forward. “I’ll report to Bruce what we’ve found, which… admittedly, isn’t much.” Tim remains frozen in place for several moments. Even from the window, Dick can see his hands gripping the back of the chair tightly. “You should try to get an update from Barbara.” He turns around and walks out of the office without another word.

Dick watches him walk through the door and close it behind him. He keeps his gaze on it for a few minutes, before he turns back towards the black window. There’s a tiny light glowing in the distance. Dick watches it fade into darkness, then he turns and exists the office as well.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks once again for all the comments and kudos! I appreciate them all and they always put a smile on my face, when I log in and see them pop up.

The test of the cells is running smoothly, at least so far. Barbara has set up all 5 samples carefully and none of them show any signs of degeneration. She should have the results in a few hours. Question is just, if she can use them in any way. She still doesn’t trust this method completely, but at least it’s a point to start from. And Bruce wouldn’t let her try if he thought it was a waste of time.

Still, she feels conflicted about it. After all, she still has to do the simulation on the wave signature influence. Can she even predict what Jason’s cells would look like after an undisclosed number of reality changes? And what about the time he spent in these other realities? He hasn’t been very helpful with information so far and she doubts he will be if she asks now. She doesn’t know how often he has changed from one reality to another or how long he has spent in them altogether.

“What are you hiding, Jason...” she murmurs as she stares at the screen in front of her. It’s past midnight and she is the only person using this floor of the Wayne Tower right now. She watches the numbers on the screen change. 64%…65%…

Barbara checks the simulation on her own blood sample. She used different gamma ray waves on her own blood samples and every 15 minutes, she checks the detectable change in her cells and writes it down, no matter how small it is. The way her own blood cells change might give her an idea how Jason’s may have reacted during his travels.

“Barbara?” Lucius calls from the opening door to announce his entrance.

The lab is huge and the distance from her working station to the door is so far that Barbara can barely make out his face. But due to Bruce’s request, Lucius came to assists her and hasn’t gone home yet. He already had the lab and equipment ready when she arrived. And during the last few hours, he has occasionally checked in, ready to help her.

“Everything okay?” he asks, but remains standing at the door. Barbara can see another human shaped shadow behind him through the open corridor. “We are about to go down into the basement and take a look at division 23b. If you need anything, call my private number.”

Barbara nods. “Will do.”

Lucius nods as well, and then retreats back into the corridor, closing the door behind him firmly. Division 23b, the code for the newest Batsuit Lucius is working on. So the other person must have been Bruce. It probably is ready for a field test. This is pretty impressive, considering the project started merely 4 weeks ago. But count on Lucius to make the impossible happen, if you need it. Bruce’s impatience must have been a huge factor too. Only 3 days ago she had caught a conversation between him and Tim about the new suit and the prior fittings. He had sounded hopeful for a quick completion. That should be able to keep his mind off Jason for at least a little while.

Barbara reaches for the keyboard in front of her, when her phone starts ringing. She takes it out of her pocket, stares at Dick’s name on the screen for several seconds before she answers. “Hello?”

“Hey Barbara, anything new to report?” Dick’s voice over the phone is slightly distorted.

“The simulations are running smoothly. I’ve set up 5 samples with the same treatment, but it’ll be another 3 hours before I have results.” She glances at the numbers on the screen… 66%. “If I work too quickly, I’ll damage the cells and they’ll become useless. How about your research?”

Dick huffs a little in disappointment. They are all eager for results, but sometimes these things take time. Patience is not a virtue the batfamily is known for.

“Nothing new to report either.” Dick answers. Barbara can hear footsteps on a wooden floor and the echo of them in a large room. So he’s not down in the cave. Is Bruce watching Jason? Is any of them or is he down there alone, waiting for time to go by? Someone should have an eye on him, if only to keep him company. Anyone would be horribly bored by now in his situation.

“Tim has a few reports that seemed promising, but I doubt they’ll show anything new. We’ve gone over the cases already; I doubt we missed something the first time around. Connor’s and Jason’s blood is identical to mine or yours, or well, Clark’s, in Connor’s case. It is impossible to tell clone from naturally developed human. There’s nothing on the Cadmus files that suggest they cloned other individuals, apart from Superman and Luthor.”

“As expected.” They would have caught anything unusual the first time, Barbara is sure of it. So that leaves them with no other clues besides Jason’s theory.

Dick pauses briefly before he answers. “Yeah. Bruce probably already knew as much. Feels like he wanted us just out of his way, keep us busy.”

To be honest, Barbara wouldn’t put it past Bruce to do something like that. “You think he doesn’t trust you?” Which is ridiculous, of course he trusts his family, just sometimes he has trouble accepting the kind of help they offer. He is their father, he is the one who started this whole operation as Batman and therefore he thinks he must bear all consequences. Of course he trusts them, it’s more a matter of Bruce not trusting himself enough to let them do what is necessary.

“He doesn’t trust our emotional judgment. But on the other hand, we don’t trust his either.”

Barbara smiles. It’s always astonishing to see how similar Bruce and all of his children are in certain aspects. Dick especially. It might be the reason why they found each other in the first place. “You and Tim, I assume?”

“Yeah. And to be honest, we don’t trust yours either.” His voice drops deeper at the end of his sentence. “Say, Barbara, why did you mess with the surveillance in the cave? Did Jason tell you anything he needed off the records?” the echo of footsteps has stopped. The only thing she can hear now is his breathing.

“You’ll have to trust me on this.” She tries to sound not as defensive as she feels. She should have thought about the others noticing that she messed with the cameras. Bruce was a given, but Tim probably keeps his eyes on the cave as well. His and Bruce’s paranoia can be hard to work with. “Jason doesn’t want any of you to worry more than necessary, so he told me about this first. Hearing it from me was easier than if he had told you about the situation, right? Given how you found him, he feared you would find his explanation far from convincing.”

She is not going to tell Dick this, but part of why Jason had asked her to talk to him might have been his own fear. She remembers clearly the way he had trembled and dug his nails into his arms, as he had told her of the other realities he had been to. Whatever has happened to him there, he hadn’t wanted to remember it, so she hadn’t asked him to explain. Had it been Bruce, Dick or even Tim questioning him, they surely would have tried to make him explain in detail.

Slowly her fingers tighten around her phone. Her relationship with Dick is already strained, she can understand why he would be suspicious of her, but she didn’t withhold any information from them. Jason had trusted her enough to reveal his vulnerability in front of her and she’s not going to betray that trust to Dick or the others.

“Doesn’t it seem weird to you?” Dick asks. Even through the phone Barbara can hear how he raises his voice in an obvious question, not really expecting her to answer. “Jason is usually the one with a hundred back up plans, he’s always prepared for pretty much anything. All his safe houses are stocked with guns, ammo, even tableware. He has hidden guns all over the city’s rooftops and I bet a helmets and clothes as well. Why not get any of this before he called us?” Dick’s voice is low and steady. She can picture him easily, his phone in one hand, the other tapping against his thigh in annoyance. He is asking her openly, but he has already made up his mind that she is hiding something. Whatever she answers, he won’t believe her unless it is exactly what he has already imagined in his own mind.

“I don’t know, Dick.”

“Don’t take me for a fool, Barbara.” His voice takes on a slightly aggressive tone. It’s more annoyance on his part than real aggression, Barbara knows him too well to be fooled by that. Dick’s temper sometimes gets the better of him.

“I know you are hiding something, as is Jason. But we need to work on this together. We’re family.” Dick stresses the last word for emphasis.

Are they? She nearly asks him that, but manages to remain silent. She is not going to start a fight, especially not over the phone. “Jason won’t trust us before he is certain that we are his family. Doesn’t matter what we say to him, until he has proof, I doubt he’ll be more cooperative. Not with you, not with me.”

Dick sighs deeply. She can hear the echoing footsteps again. “All the more reason for us all to work together here. Yet you are hiding something.”

“I’ll inform you as soon as the tests are done.”

“Barbara-”

She hangs up on him. And for a few moments she keeps the phone in her hands, stares at the screen and waits for Dick to call back. He can be rather persistent when he wants to be. But this time he doesn’t try again. Kind of relieved Barbara puts the phone back into her pocket and turns back to the monitor. The numbers on the screen blink brightly. 67%…68%…

 

 

 ****

 

 

“Jason.”

“Batman.”

They stand in front of each other, staring through the glass door in front of them. It’s dark in the cave, most lights are switched off, except the ones lighting the paths between the platforms.

“What?” Jason grins. He has crossed his arms over his chest and is tapping one foot against the floor rhythmically. “Don’t glare. You wear the cape, you’re Batman, easy as that.”

Bruce just narrows his eyes. He’s not willing to play games with Jason, not ins this situation. Why can’t he understand, that this is for the best of everyone? Jason hasn’t been very cooperative so far, what other option did they have? At least in the cave he is safe from whatever was after him and they can work on solving this mystery quicker as if they worked alone. “If I ask you a few questions, will you answer?” he mimics Jason’s stand, crosses his arms over his chest. The cape flutters behind him as he moves.

Jason looks at him for a few moments. “Get rid of the cowl and I might. I’m not here to chat with a fictional persona, though I suspect you identify more as Batman these days as Bruce.”

Silence stretches between them for several moments. Bruce sighs, but follows Jason’s request. He removes the cowl, places it on a shelf on the right side of the chamber. “I’m here to talk.” He turns back to the other. “And I need you to be honest with me, to figure out who did this. And why.”

While he had put the cowl to the side, Jason has stepped back from the glass door. He walks a few steps towards the back of the chamber, his back turned to Bruce. “And if your Jason is still alive and kicking. I know you don’t think of me as your Jason.” He turns around again, the smirk from his face is gone. “I was gone too long, I came back too quietly. That’s not my style, right?”

“Why did you ask for Barbara?” Bruce ignores his question, answers with one of his own.

“Because she listens, better than all of you can. She can blend out who I am, listen and then pass judgment. You judge me and then you listen. Wasn’t an option.” With his arms once again crossed over his chest, Jason leans against the back of the chamber with one shoulder. It’s only a few steps, but he has put as much distance between him and Bruce as he is able to.

Bruce tries to ignore how much this stings him. “What did you talk to her about? Did you tell her what happened when you vanished?”

“I was in Park Row, corner of Clinton and Orange, on the roof of the gray, 5 story building. There’s a maintenance panel on the south side. That’s the last place I remember being, before I woke up in a different reality. There was no pain, no flashy lights.” Jason makes it a point to stare down at the floor as he explains.

“What did you do that night?”

He shrugs. “Was on patrol. I didn’t run into anyone mentionable, didn’t see anything unusual.”

Bruce watches Jason’s fingers, as they rub against his arms. “Anyone who might have a reason to target you?”

“Everyone?” he shrugs once again. “I have people who don’t like me, you have people who don’t like you.” He raises his head, looks right at Bruce. “Usually, they dislike me as well. Could be anyone I’ve ever dealt with. I have no clue who could have done this. And judging from your glare, neither do you. And I know that must eat at you. I was gone-” a short pause, barely noticeable, but Bruce catches it “6 months and you are still not closer to solving this than you were the day I vanished, am I right?”

There’s a weird feeling in Bruce’s guts. For a second he considers not asking Jason why he hesitated, but he’d worry even more if he didn’t. “Did the time you were gone not correspond to the time that elapsed?”

As a response, Jason smiles. Not a cheeky, teasing smirk, but a genuine, fond smile. Bruce has seen it before on Jason, usually directed at Damian, when he misinterprets certain American customs or phrases and later catches his mistake.

“Inter-dimensional travel is weird. I didn’t always wake up on the same date, the years and days were often mixed up.”

There’s more to his words than he lets on, Bruce is sure of it. Jason is moving his arms in soft up and down motions, he rubs his fingers against the fabric of his suit as if unaware of doing it and there’s a slight nervous tremble in his left leg. Bruce lets his eyes travel over his body and tries to be as subtle about it as he can. “Why didn’t you go to your safe houses first?”

“They could have been compromised.” Jason pushes himself back from the wall and walks over to the cot, sits down at the edge of it. “I went straight to the GCPD, hacked into their data files and checked if certain reports on Batman and Bruce Wayne matched my memories. And as they did, I called for you to pick me up.” He has his arms stretched over his knees, his head facing down towards the floor. He briefly glances at Bruce before he looks down again. His hair is longer than it was 6 months ago, it falls into his face and hides his eyes from view.

Bruce goes over Jason’s words in his head. Given Jason’s reluctance to speak with them openly about his time in other realities, it’s only logical to consider the possibility, that his experiences weren’t always good. What if he landed in one, where he was hunted by authorities? Or his mother was still alive and he had the chance to see her again, only to be reminded that in his reality she was dead? Or maybe Bruce and everyone else he knew had been dead as well, leaving Jason alone and without someone familiar to turn to?

There are too many possibilities. And watching Jason on the cot, his back slumped and his shoulders rolling forward, Bruce has the nagging feeling that something is amiss.

“You had to make sure you could trust us… so we wouldn’t hurt you?” he tries to ask, with slow and careful words. Jason’s head turns towards him, his eyes still hidden behind dark hair. Bruce can see how tense his shoulders have become all of a sudden. “Was that the case in some of the realities you’ve been to?” He can barely finish his question before Jason interrupts sharply. “We’re done talking.” he hisses.

“No, Jason, we are not.” Bruce takes a step forward, as close as the glass door will let him before he is pressed flat against it. He can’t help his hands from reaching out. One hand is pressed against the cold glass, reaching for the other unconsciously. “Tell me what happened.”

“Told you everything you need to know.” Jason hisses, whipping his hair back. There’s a fire in his eyes Bruce hasn’t seen for a long time. A dangerous glint that speaks of rage and fear, of something unpredictable and dangerous.

It hurts Bruce to know that their relationship is back at this point, where the only thing Jason expects from him is disappointment and all Bruce can expect from Jason is rebellion. It feels like square one, right when Jason came back the first time, wild and furious.

“You are keeping secrets from me. I can’t help you, if you’re uncooperative. I need to know what happened.” Bruce demands. He can hear the slight tremble in his own voice. It is impatience, fear and annoyance all mixed in one. He is trying to help, why can’t Jason see that?

Jason answers with fury. “And I need you to tell me just one thing. Do I belong here or not?”

“If not, you’ll leave? I can’t allow that.”

Jason snarls and jumps from the cot. With bared teeth he strides up to the glass door, right across from Bruce. Their faces are so close, they could feel each other’s breath if the glass wasn’t between them. Their glares meet, each one unwilling to back down in the slightest. “I’m not asking for your permission. You think this cell can hold me? I wouldn’t bet on it.”

“Jason, I refuse-”

“You refuse what?” Jason bangs his fists against the glass. “To take what I say at face value? To trust me for once, once in your life to not screw things up? I’m done taking your shit.” he shouts, his shoulders tremble. “I don’t need the Great Batman to figure this out for me. I came here as a sign of goodwill, show my cooperation and let you call the shots, because I know how damn important that is to you. You need to control everything, so here I am, dressed in a ridiculous bodysuit, locked away in your cage! I’ve said nothing, done nothing wrong! And you still treat me like a foolish child! But guess what, I’m not that kid anymore. And you, stop stomping around all high and mighty, pretending to have everything under control. You don’t! You’re terrified and so am I, so stop this bullshit!” with another ‘bang’ against the glass, he steps back hastily. His whole frame shakes, he’s gasping for air and his hands are clenched together. Bruce stares at him, Jason stares back. “What?” he bares his teeth at Bruce again. “You’re not going to say anything?”

Before Bruce can answer, red light flickers through the cave and the alarm goes off. Which can only mean one thing: the GCPD lit the Batsymbol. Jason raises his chin, defiance written all over his expression. Bruce grinds his teeth. There’s no choice, not really. He grabs the cowl and hurries up the platform, out of Jason’s sight.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for all the feedback since the last chapter! Even the smallest comment makes me really happy and grateful~~~  
> It does make me want to continue faster, better, longer even, so fingers crossed for that.  
> Enjoy!

On top of a rooftop overlooking Robinson Park, Dick observes the Batsymbol shining in the dark sky. Only briefly does he entertain the thought of helping Bruce with whatever is going on in the city right now. But everyone else on the channel stays silent, nobody has requested his assistance or asked for backup yet. That can only mean Tim and Bruce can handle whatever tonights emergency is on their own.

Should he even still be in Gotham? Jason is in good hands, though he might have a different opinion on that. And it still feels like Bruce only put him on the Cadmus files to keep him off his back, give him something to do while others did more promising research. So there’s no point for him to continue. On top of that, Barbara is still hiding things from them. What did she and Jason talk about that was so important to him to keep it off the records?

Hunched over on the edge of the rooftop, Dick stares down unto the street right beneath him. Two out of five street lights below are broken and the ground is barely visible in the darkness. This is not his city anymore, but it still is his home. He wasn’t born here or raised as long as the others might have been, but Gotham is were he feels he belongs. At least until Bruce reminds him again, that Gotham belongs to him and whoever wants to be part of it, needs his approval too. And despite the love he has for his adoptive father, he is not a child anymore and he doesn’t require his permission. 

A piercing scream interrupts his thoughts. Through the muddy light on the sidewalk, he can see a dark figure running away from a parked car. His lenses work well in darkness, but he is too high up to make out clear details. Bless Lucius and his insistence to add some gliding wings to his costume again. Dick still remembers Tim’s commentary in vivid detail (”You literally call yourself Nightwing, you’re so not on brand having no wings.”) 

And sure, the grappling hook is nice and handy, but right now he’s at the outline of housing blocks, leading right into a park, which means there are no buildings on the other side to hook into, making gliding the only possible solution to surprise the thief from above.

Dick locks his elbows onto the new clasps left and right beside his ribcage, spreads the wings out underneath his arms and jumps from the edge of the rooftop. Nearly silently he glides down the building, dives down right above the running man with the swinging handbag and sends him flying across the asphalt with a kick to the shoulder. The impact on the ground is hard enough to knock the man out instantly. The purse clutters across the sidewalk and lands in a patch of grass leading down into the park. 

The sound of high heeled shoes over asphalt draws nearer. A young woman in a short dress hurries down the road. “Help!” she shouts as she comes closer.

Dick has already walked over to fetch the purse from the ground. Then he checks on the man he has knocked out. His pulse is steady, as is his breathing. None of his limbs seem broken, but there is a large bruise forming on his cheek, where he landed on the ground. Dick hoists him up, drags him a few meters to a lamp post, so he can lean him upright against it, his face hanging down, in case he bit his lip or cheeks.

The woman slows down, as she reaches them. She seems hesitant, stops several meters away from Dick and stares at him. Shes clearly out of breath from her short run, her shoulders heave with every intake of breath and her arms shake at her sides.

Every encounter with civilians is different. Some appreciate the help very much and even asks for photos or autographs, whereas others tend to fear them just as much as their prior perpetrator. So Dick puts on a smile, tries to appear nonthreatening and steps up to her slowly, to hand her the bag. She seems very young, might have just turned 19 or 20. Her dress, now that is is illuminated by the street light they are standing under, is a similar color to his own blue symbol on his chest. 

“Love the dress, it’s a great color.” Dick smiles. Talking usually works well to help take off some anxiety and fear people around him might have.

She blushes. “Thanks… for the help, too…” she mumbles, shy and probably still scared from being robbed. She clutches the bag tightly against her chest. Stopping a low criminal thug from stealing a handbag is not a great deed overall, but maybe that girl has a picture of her grandmother in her purse, who passed away only a few weeks ago. If she lost that picture, she might be devastated. It’s the small things that count too, sometimes Dick fears they might forget that, with all the threats to their planet and human civilization in general they have to deal with.

“You need me to call you a taxi? Or escort you home?” he asks. It’s the middle of the night and that girl is on her own, depending on how far she still needs to go, a lot could happen to her.

“No, no-” she quickly shakes her head. “I- I live just around the corner. I’m nearly home already, I just- I’ll hurry.” she insists.

Dick smiles at her, amused by how red she turns again as their eyes meet for a moment (or at least when he meets hers, because the new lenses are phenomenal, barely noticeable from his side, but impossible to see through from the outside). “I’ll keep an eye on you, so don’t worry.” 

Before she can respond, he has taken his grappling hook and is up again on the rooftop of the nearest building. As promised, he watches her, as she hurries down the street, around the next corner and into one of the apartment buildings across the street. While he jumps across a few rooftops, keeping her in sight, he sends a message to the police, asking them to pick up the guy he just knocked out. The girl probably won’t press charges anyway and that man seemed like a homeless person just trying to grab some money. Dick had put a few crumbled dollar bills into the man’s jacket earlier, so whenever he wakes up, he’ll at least have some money for food. 

Once the girl is inside her home, he jumps back over the buildings to wait until the police arrives. Gotham is not the kind of city where an unconscious man on the street is left alone. So Dick sits down over the edge of a small roof right across the street lamp where he put the man and lets his feet hang down. 

<”RR, request one, Nightwing-”> Tim’s voice in his ear cracks. Dick opens the channel for him.

“Nightwing, copy.”

<”Signal was a false alarm, just a surge in the wires from rats eating the insulation. Need assistance?”>

Dick looks down at the man on the street. He can already hear police sirens in the distance. “Negative. I’m over at Robinson Park, took down someone stealing a handbag. Tonight seems quiet.”

<”Yeah, noticed that too. Police reports show nothing serious either. B and I will return to base, unless you have something for us?”>

Not that he wishes something serious would happen in the city tonight, that’s a horrible thought to have, but deep down he feels itchy for something to do, to stretch his legs and some other muscles, which he can’t utilize in his daily life. The last week had been unusually quiet for Gotham, but instead of feeling relieved that the citizens get some breathing room, Dick feels rather nervous. 

“No, I got nothing.”

<”Hm, okay. See you later then, RR out.”>

Dick settles in to wait again. The night is warm enough to just sit on the rooftop unmoving and not feel cold. He watches the lights across the park, they nearly glitter in the distance. It takes nearly 15 minutes before a police car comes down the street and two officers to take the man with them. He watches the car drive off into the distance, before he jumps up from the edge of the roof and stretches his back and legs. And what to do now? Dick lets his gaze wander across the Skyline of Gotham. It’s probably a good idea to take a route around the park first, see if there is anything to do for him. Then he could check out Miller Harbor before returning back to the Manor. Seems like a plan.

When he turns around, a huge shadow looms over him.

“Goddamn-” he jumps back in surprise. It takes a second, but then the shape of the shadow becomes familiar. “Geez…” he rubs the back of his head, embarrassed. “I hate it when you do that.”

The shadow walks closer to the edge of the roof, gets illuminated further with every step. The ears are a bit pointier than they used to be on other costumes, along with the wide, heavy cape it makes the new Batsuit look even larger on Bruce’s frame. The lenses flash slightly yellow. Dick has seen the designs but hadn’t been present for any of the past fittings. Lucius has a thing for bold designs, which Bruce secretly loves but would never admit. And this new version of the suit definitely has that dramatic vibe.

The black and gray colored plates on the costume give it the look of a sturdy armor, though retaining enough flexibility for Batman’s preferred fighting style. The plates stretch and squash slightly with every step, allowing the muscles underneath to move freely. The boots appear heavy, chunky almost, but they barely make any sound as they move over the concrete of the roof. 

Batman stops at the edge of the rooftop, peers down unto the street. Dick steps up beside him, following his gaze. “Thought you’d return back to base.”

“Something else came up.” Bruce answers, sharply. There’s definitely a new voice module in the suit as well, because he sounds lower, the timbre of his voice slightly distorted. He still sounds like himself, but not quite. 

Bruce turns to him. Through the lenses Dick can’t tell if he’s just watching him or looking him over. “I’m looking for one of Jason’s apartments. There must be one in this area.”

There might be. But none Dick knows about. An apartment overlooking Robinson Park seems like a nice place though, he can imagine Jason living here from time to time. He turns towards the long blocks of apartment buildings south of them. How can they find that place? Unless Jason told them what names he uses to rent or acquire property, they have not much to go on. When Dick turns back towards Bruce, the other is still watching him and hasn’t moved an inch.

“Do you know what you are looking for? Need some help?” Dick asks. It will take some time to get used to the new suit, right now it gives him chills. Which, well, is the point of the design, but still.

Bruce keeps staring (probably?) at him for a few more moments, before he turns towards edge facing the park. “There are two apartments rented under the name Charles Trask. You check one, I check the other.”

“Wait-” Dick steps back up to Bruce’s side. “Did he tell you that name?” Because to Dick it doesn’t sound familiar at all. Maybe Barbara has been able to track Jason’s steps? It also could have been Jason, who told Bruce what names to search for to find his secret hiding spots. But he hasn’t been very cooperative so far and Dick can’t imagine him changing his mind so suddenly. 

Bruce turns back towards him and smirks. Under the new, plated mask, it looks unnerving, because his mouth is the only part not covered by the mask, but when he talks or smiles, the plates around his chin and cheeks move. “He thinks himself clever, using names from his least favorite books instead of those he loves. It’s obvious, if you know what to look for.”

Put like that, it sounds reasonable. “What made you think of that now?” They’ve been trying to solve that puzzle for months while searching for clues on Jason’s disappearance, how did Bruce think of it now?

“We can talk later.” Bruce answers instead, his voice a bit sharper than before and with a hint of annoyance. “Check the apartment first.”

“Okay, fine.” Dick huffs. Old habits really die hard. But they had been doing so well these past weeks, barely getting into any arguments because of their shared goal. Now that Jason’s back, the gloves are off, it seems. 

Bruce gives him the address and Dick jumps across the street unto the next rooftop. The house he’s looking for should be just two blocks away, right on the side of the river. Right at the corner to Cormer Street is a dark gray 5 story building. This must be it. Dick jumps on the roof and remains still for several seconds, to not alert any motion detectors. You never know with Jason. There’s a door on the roof, probably leading down a staircase. Instead of taking the obvious path, he climbs down the side of the roof until he reaches the first window on the front side of the building. The glass of the window is frosted, Dick can’t look inside. He checks another in the same level. Frosted glass again.

There’s a small panel tucked into the upper left corner of the second window. Dick manages to break off the top without tearing it apart completely. There’s a number pad underneath. “Bingo…” he smiles. So, Charles Trask. He knows it’s a character of a novel Jason dislikes. Dick taps into the database of the Batcomputer with his communicator and searches for all findings on Charles Trask. ‘East of Eden’ pops up. If he were Jason, he would use a number connected to the name the apartment is rented under, to avoid getting mixed up. Maybe the year the novel was first published?

Dick types in the numbers, but the small, blinking light on the panel remains red. Hm, what else? The author’s birthday or day of death? No, still doesn’t work. He’s probably thinking about this all wrong. The combinations he tried so far were easy to find out, Jason would probably use something a bit harder to crack.

How about a combination of the page and line the character first appears in the novel? Luckily the computer’s database is as extensive as it gets and after a bit of digging, he finds the numbers and enters them into the pad. The light blinks green.

Carefully, he opens the window and slips inside. He’s standing in what appears to be a living room. There’s a couch but not much other furniture. There are several cupboards at the walls, but that’s about it. Carefully he makes his way inside the room, until suddenly his foot hits resistance. A tripping wire, seriously - that’s all Dick can think of before the shock wave of an explosion throws him backwards against a wall. He hits the wall with the back of his head hard enough for his vision to go dark. Quickly the room fills with thick, dark smoke. Down on the ground, Dick tries to orient himself. Was the window on the right or left side? How man steps did he take and into what direction exactly? Was he thrown against the left or right side of the room? 

He is still blind, both from the impact and the smoke around him. Somewhere in the building the fire alarm goes off. Coughing up blood and dust particles from the smoke, Dick crawls forward towards what he assumes must be the direction of the window. The infrared vision of his lenses is able to filter out the smoke, but everything is still too blurry to see exactly what’s going on around him. Everything in the room is just dark, unfamiliar shapes.

Dick can hear a fire crackle, the sound is getting closer, louder. And suddenly there are heavy footsteps on the floor, he can feel the vibrating floor under his fingertips. “Hey-” he tries to call out to whoever is in the room with him, either friend or foe. If he doesn’t get out quickly, it won’t make a difference.

The footsteps come nearer. Suddenly hands grip his shoulders and he is being flung across a broad shoulder and back. He can feel metal beneath his fingers. Something black is placed over his face. He can’t breathe! He thrashes, shouts, coughs. Then his mind goes blank.


	9. Chapter 9

After several more hours the bright letters on the monitor finally blink in rapid succession. -100%-. It is done. Sadly, not all of the samples made it through the process. Some cells became too unstable and their results are ruined, unusable. Barbara is glad to have at least 3 samples from each run, both of Jason’s and her own blood. They should be enough for a thorough comparison and minimize systematic measurement errors. 

She copies the results to her phone and packs the samples into a shatterproof container. For obvious reasons, she can’t leave them here. Bruce will need to get rid of them as soon as possible, because they process has made them slightly radioactive and rather reactive towards other natural elements. Once all data is copied safely, she deletes the files from the lab’s computer and cleans the equipment she used.

Lucius might still be down in the basement with Bruce, so Barbara tries to call him on his private number to let him know that she is about to leave. The call goes straight to voice mail. 

“Hey, it’s Barbara. I’m done at the lab. I’m about to leave, so… I’ll just lock the room and then I’ll head back home. If you need anything, call me. Bye.”

She wonders what kind of tests Lucius and Bruce might be doing. The basement has a few radio signal proofed rooms, which does explain why she can’t reach Lucius right now. It’s been a few hours, past 3am already, so whatever they are doing down there must be complicated or it wouldn’t take so long. That or Bruce blew something up by being too impatient. He’s smart, sure, but also a middle aged man, who refuses to read the manuals when he tries to figure out new tech and gadgets. And sometimes that doesn’t work out too well for anyone involved.

Thinking of all the possible disasters Bruce might have dragged Lucius into, Barbara smiles as she closes the lab. She enters the private security code Lucius gave them to lock the doors behind her. This will automatically delete any footage from the security cameras, in case they are active. She doubts Lucius left any online when she arrived here, but better be safe than sorry. 

Barbara checks her phone for new messages, cape related and other. There’s just one unread message from Stephanie, with another picture attached. Both girls are sitting on a large king-sized bed in a hotel room. Cass, who holds the phone and obviously took the picture, is sitting across from Stephanie who is holding scissors and cutting her own bangs with a handheld mirror balanced on a pillow in her lap. Okay, that was definitely red wine they had earlier. Barbara sighs slightly. Time to block their credit card, again. Admittedly, they have never abused the cards before for anything outrageous or dangerous, but sometimes they get crazy ideas and drinking red wine while underage in a foreign country might be one of them. But then again, they are stuck in a hotel while a storm blazes outside. Barbara would be bored too.

At least they are safe and in good company. So Barbara can focus on her current task. With the analysis complete, she can make a detailed comparison on old and new samples and see what the computer deducts from that. Will there be any similarity between Jason’s blood and her own? Did she manage to alter her cells in the same way Jason’s might have reacted? If there are no similarities between the samples, they’ll have gained nothing from this. Just wasted time on a dead end.

She could do this either at the Clocktower or the cave. It’d probably a better idea to return to the manor, hand the samples over to Bruce and let him deal with them directly. And if she runs the comparison directly on the computer in the cave Bruce will have access to the results immediately, even if he’s still testing the new suit with Lucius. She thinks of her options. Part of her doesn’t want to return to the cave and be stuck with Jason down there on her own. For some reason, that thought gives her chills. It’s still too early for everyone to have returned home, Tim and Dick should still be on patrol.

Out of curiosity, she checks their trackers. It’s not an emergency, which they were initially designed for and everyone gave their consent on their use, but she only wants to confirm their location, nothing else, that should be okay. Surprisingly, Tim’s tracker shows him in the cave, while Dick is close to Robinson Park. Barbara cross-checks the police news feed, but it seems like a quiet night outside, so Dick is probably just on patrol around the park, which tends to be a meeting place for dealers and other low crime thugs on similar. 

Since Tim is at the manor, Barbara decides to return there as well. They can discuss strategy, she can start her data comparison and maybe have some more words with Jason about how they’ll proceed from here on. Tim might not be Jason’s preferred company but they’ll surely manage for a while, if they have to.

It’s quiet as she wheels down the corridor to the elevator. The ride down to the ground floor takes a while. She watches the numbers on the pad light up as she passes the floors. Suddenly her phone starts ringing. Immediately she becomes tense. Tim’s ghost number flashes on the screen. This can only mean an emergency. About a year ago Barbara has set up fake phone numbers, which operate at a special frequency, for every member of the family, in case they lose signal on their communicators. They can use any regular phone to set up the connection, but the signal of the call can’t be tracked through radio masts, because it’s directly connected to a selected few Wayne satellites, which distribute this special frequency only to the other ghost numbers.

Barbara’s fingers twitch slightly as she answers the call.

“O, accept 110, copy.”

<”RR, request zero, Oracle-”> Tim’s voice is distorted, the line’s connection very weak. She can barely hear his words, everything is nearly drowned out by white noise.

The doors of the elevator open, she has reached the ground floor. She tries not to seem too hurried as she makes her way down to the exit. The security guard watching over the entrance nods at her, as she passes by and returns her visitor badge without a word. The huge glass entrance door opens for her and she hurries outside. 

“O, accept 110, copy.” She tries to give Tim confirmation again that she is listening. There’s nobody out on the street at this time of the night, still Barbara takes shelter in a nearby alley, to prevent someone else from listening in. “O, accept 110, copy!” she answers again, her voice harsher and louder. She feels slight panic crawl up her back.

Something is clearly disturbing the connection. There are only two possible scenarios for that. Either another radio signal is interfering with their frequency and the waves spread in too many directions, or they are blocked from reaching the satellite, either by Tim being underground or confined in a space that can shield waves from reaching the outside. Tim’s tracker showed him in the cave, which would naturally shield the waves from within, but Bruce had installed several amplifiers throughout the cave and tunnels. Unless all of them stopped working at once, there should be no problem with the connection.

<”RR, request zero, Oracle-”> Tim repeats his words several more times. After five more tries, the connection seems to stabilize, the white noise dies down, at least a little.

Barbara answers every try, the hand holding her phone trembles. “O, accept 110, copy.”

<”Oracle, thank god-”>

Finally her words get through, Tim’s answer rushes out of him, his voice trembles with strain.

<”Listen, it’s Jason, he blew up part of the cave- it’s-”> Tim’s voice is hasty, panicked, strained. <”it’s a mess down here. The computer’s wiring is fried, Jason has changed the retinal scans and voice recognition codes, so we can’t get upstairs. Me, AA and B are stuck down here.”>

Barbara listens closely to every word. There are voices in the background and the sound of small and big rocks tumbling down the walls. Someone is coughing. “Status report?” her voice trembles slightly. What the hell happened? Wasn’t it their Jason after all and he let them capture him to get down into the cave to destroy it? Was he trying to kill the others?

<”Scratches, bruises, nothing severe. Agent A inhaled too much smoke, B’s looking after him, he’ll be okay. I’m trying to reboot the computer network on a smaller system, but it crashes every time after just a few seconds.”>

That shouldn’t happen. She and Bruce designed the network to also work on a smaller system, if the situation required it. The compressed data archive should even work on a cell phone. Unless someone found a way to loop the data transfer. No system would be able to support the huge amount of data it seemingly had to transfer, because once the compressed data was done loading, it’d start from the beginning again and add to the previous volume. Repeat that cycle enough times and any system would crash, once the data load became too huge.

“Dammmit!” Barbara curses loudly. “He must have looped the transfer cycle somehow, that would crash any system.” The question is how? She designed the archive herself, she made the compressed data packs and wrote the code for the booting system. Nobody else has had access to the code and the password protected operating system. To mess with it without her help should have been impossible. How did Jason manage to work around her security that quickly? She had no idea that he possessed such skills or resources, aside from herself.

<”Barbara, you need to revoke Jason’s security clearance and password access immediately!”> Tim shouts over the sound of bending and breaking metal. One of the platforms must have collapsed and fallen into the water beneath it. <”Try to find him and what he’s planning, we’ll manage until then. We can’t leave through the tunnels either, most of them collapsed and the rest are unstable, we could get buried beneath the rubble, but the main part of the cave is intact.”>

That’s a relief, at least. If the cave collapsed they wouldn’t have a chance to survive. 

“Copy that.” Barbara can hear her own voice shake with anger. She’ll find whoever that other Jason is and stop whatever he’s planning. With one hand she keeps the phone pressed to her ear, while she maneuvers her wheelchair down the street with the other hand. She needs to get to the Clocktower, quickly. Once she breaks the looped cycle of the data transfer, Tim can reboot the network on his phone or any other device and change the security codes on the scanners. That should allow them to use the elevator upstairs into the manor. They can then regroup and plan their counterattack.

<“Listen-”> Tim’s voice breaks over the line, the white noise is back full force, every word is nearly swallowed by background sound. <”He took one of the Batmobiles and blew up the other vehicles with the canons. He’s armed, be carefu- an- B- can- reac- D-”>

The line goes silent. “O, accept 110, copy!” Barbara tries several times but receives no answer. “Dammit!” she curses, nearly throws her phone against the nearest wall in anger. She catches herself at the last second, forces her trembling arm down once more. She has to calm herself or she can’t help the others. How could she have been so blind? She had trusted Jason, she had even suggested letting him out of the captive chamber. Why did she trust him so quickly? Because of bullshit stories and some unshed tears? She’ll remember this and not make the same mistake twice.

She has no idea how Jason (or whatever, whoever, that person is) managed to get out of the quarantine chamber, but he had obviously managed just fine. And easily blown up half the cave as well. And now there’s a rouge Batmobile loose in the city. That could end very badly.

There’s one shimmer of hope though. Tim had said only himself, Alfred and Bruce were stuck in the cave. He hadn’t mentioned Dick. That means he must be on patrol in the city or at least somewhere else than the cave or manor. 

Barbara tries to reach him through his communicator. “O, request one, Nightwing.” She receives no answer. “O, request one, Nightwing.” Three more tries, but still no reply. There is it again, that prickling, pinching feeling of dread crawling all over her back. Why doesn’t he answer? She checks his tracker. The search comes up with nothing new. Last known location is still Robinson Park and after that, no further detected movement. A shiver runs down her spine. Just a few hours ago, everything was working as it should. She trails the path Nightwing took into the city from the manor, all the way through Midtown down to Robinson Park. Then he stopped moving, about an hour ago.

There’s no time to lose, she has to get to the Clocktower, quickly, and get the others out of the cave. They’ll have to search for both not-Jason and Dick as soon as possible. Hopefully nothing bad happened to Dick.

Barbara hurries down the street towards one of the main roads behind Wayne Tower. A taxi will be fastest. Barbara is just about to call one, as a familiar sound echoes through the streets, growing nearer with every passing second. She’d recognize that deep rumble anywhere. Barely five seconds later the black, massive vehicle comes speeding down the street, drifts around the corner with screeching tires and stops right beside her. 

She grips the armrests of her wheelchair tightly, as the top of the Batmobile opens and a darkly clothed figure jumps unto the sidewalk in front of her. Someone else wouldn’t be able to tell the difference, but Barbara knows instantly who is standing in front of her, clad in one of Bruce’s older Batman suits. 

The black cape is torn at the edges, the cowl scratched and chipped on the left side. But despite the obvious damage, the other fills out the costume just as naturally as Bruce does. His shoulders are just as broad and through his posture he appears even larger than he really is. It’s quiet intimidating.

Before Barbara can even try to reach for the stun gun tucked behind a clasp of her wheels, Jason grabs her wrists tightly. He’s not wearing gloves, his fingers are burned and covered in blood and dust.

“Get inside.” Jason grunts, stares at her from underneath transparent lenses. “We don’t have time to lose.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: I added new tags for this chapter: non-consensual drug use & body horror.  
> Both aren't overly explicit, but be warned that they are mentioned and described. 
> 
> And without further ado, please enjoy!

There are shadows crawling over his body. Long, dark nails scratch over his skin. It burns, he can feel his skin tear beneath their sharp edges. Red water drips over his eyes. No, not water. It smells like iron. 

Above him, hundreds of feet away, obscured by clouds, is a dark yellow sun. The rays curve and bend across the sky in wild formations. There’s no roof above his head, there are only walls reaching high up, but he could touch their edges, if he just stretched his arms. And he tries. The thin, pointy fingers of his right arm reach towards the sky, he watches his black nails scratch at the clouds. But he can’t touch the light or the walls surrounding him. They are all so far away.

Hot, piercing pain shoots through his other arm, as he tries to lift it. He screams, the sound echoes around him, until it dies down and sinks into the ground like melting snow on the first warm day of spring. His face is wet, it still smells like iron. He can even taste it on the tip of his tongue, as it rolls around slowly in his mouth.

Suddenly there’s warmth across his forehead. It’s soft, comforting on his cold skin.

“Can you hear me?”

From above, below and all around him comes a deep, familiar voice. The warmth moves across his forehead, down his cheek and neck, settles as a comforting weight over his throat.

“Br’?” he tests the syllable, slowly, deliberately, moves his whole head with the sound of it. There’s no conscious thought of what he is trying to say, only the memory of a word that is important to him. One side of his face feels icy cold, the other is covered by hot tingles from a thousand tiny needles stuck inside his flesh. “Wh’t hap’ned?”

Slowly, right in front of the yellow light above him, forms a face. Someone he knows, someone he trusts, someone he loves, he knows it, is sure of it. But there’s only the feeling of love and trust, nothing more.

“You were hurt.” the voice vibrates, deep like a volcanic rumble. The sound of the words still echoes in his mind long after the voice has died down. He can still feel the melody of the voice dance across his mind, but he can’t catch it.

When he tries to move his arms again, there’s pain inside his bones and fire across his flesh. He screams. The warmth from his throat settles across his cheek. It’s hotter now, feels tighter on his skin. It’s starting to hurt. “Br’?” he tries the word again, because it feels like security, like a calm settling over his heart.

“Can you help me, son? Tell me about Jason.”  
The last word feels like guilt, shame, fear and desperation. He can’t run from it, he wants to run from it. He moves his head, flees from the warmth, from the face he loves, towards the shadows. No, not that word, the memory hurts, it burns, it clenches around his heart with sharp claws. It’s pain, agony, he wants the other word back, he needs it back. “Bru’!” he sobs, his eyes fill with water and his throat closes painfully. The drops run down his face, gather on his lips. They taste like iron.

He feels a needle pierce his skin, the tip sharp and hot and the liquid a stinging river inside his veins. It spreads all across his neck, over his throat and chest, down to his heart. 

“Tell me, Dick. You need to tell me, son. Who does he love?”

The voice is unforgiving. It multiplies inside the room, echoes back from all four walls at once. _Tell me._  
_Need to tell me son._ No, no! _Who does he love?_ No! _Tell me!_

Seconds stretch into minutes, stretch into hours, stretch into days. There are only the shadows and the faint echo of a voice. He sleeps inside that echo, fades into the shadows until he is stretched as thin as ice on browning leaves after a night of frost. There’s no pain, no fear, no memories. He’s here and he’s not. It’s peaceful. 

When he wakes from the darkness, the light inside the room is dim. There’s just a tiny speck of it shining in the sky. Or is it a ceiling? It is so far away, he can’t tell. He blinks, his eyes are dry and sting. He feels a hand grasp his own. “Bruce?” the word from his throat is raspy and quickly fades away into silence. 

There is that face again, the shape so familiar, but all features of it are blurred, spread out at the edges wider than they should be. “Tell me about Jason.” the voice requests, the sound of the words feel like a warm memory. “Dick, tell me. Who is important to him?”

So he remembers. Faces, voices, words, laughter. His smile stretches wide as the memories dance before his eyes and his lips move along the words in his mind. 

Roy was a good friend for Jay, as opposite as they were. They laughed together, fought together, cried together. Artemis had fury, red like her hair and she would burn any city for Jay in the same red fire. He is so sweet, yet so strong, but Bizzaro loves Jay as the other loves him. He misses Kory, her laugh, her smiles, her strong hand and arms, that would never turn them down were they in need. She protected Jay, always, forever, because he himself had failed to do so.

“Good, that’s good. Tell me about you and Jay.”

The smile crumbles, turns to dust. He failed him, failed him when he should have protected him. He is his brother, he loves him, but he failed him, hurt him so much. Jay can never love him, never should, because he deserves only pain and guilt. Forever. Of course he loves Damian more, and Cass, sweet Cass, who is stronger, better than him, always will be, he can never compare because he made mistakes and he can’t take them back.

“Dick, listen to my voice.” 

He does, he tries at least. But the voice is so quiet, so far away, he can barely hear it. Even though it hurts, he turns his head, stares up into the shapeless face and only sees bright blue eyes looking down at him. Bruce, he thinks. For him he would do anything, they all would, he doesn’t have to ask. 

_Tell me, Dick_

_Tell me about your family_

_Tell me your secrets_

_Where do you hide?_

_What do you hide?_

Everything he can remember, every name, every code, every address, he thinks of them, pictures them before his eyes, a wild mess of words and images he sorts through slowly but steadily. He misses them so much. Bludhaven is cold, colder than Gotham and darker, so much darker in every corner. The warehouses are theirs, only theirs, they are a safe space when they need them. Jason has so many, there are all across the town. So many places to hide and find peace. He remembers them, he searched through them so many times and found pictures and books and teacups and flowers. A life inside a life, a brother lost and a stranger found. He missed him so much, it’s wonderful that he is back, hopefully he is back, he must be back, can’t be someone else, mustn’t be someone else.

They’ll all be happy, he can’t wait to tell Damian, that the other is back, that they can stop searching, that he can stop worrying, because Bruce will finally be happy again, maybe can finally smile once more. Cass will laugh and Stephanie will laugh and Alfred will smile, because he can stop worrying too. He loves Jay so much and finally he can be happy again. He deserves it, Jay would feel terrible if Alfred was still in pain.

_You did so well, Dick._

The praise pulls him from the images of his mind. He blinks several times until the haze before his eyes clears. All he sees are blue eyes. And all he feels is the sting of another needle piercing his skin.

_Sleep_

He does.

 

####

 

They remain silent throughout the ride. There’s only the low rumble of the engine beneath them and the quiet beeps of the console, alerting the vehicle’s driver of approaching obstacles and sharp turns. 

Barbara’s back is facing the windshield. The older Batmobiles hadn’t been designed to hold more than one person and had to be adjusted accordingly as the family grew. The seats are pressed back to back, there’s no room to reach around them, only a small gap between the headboards allows free communication between driver and passenger. But neither has said a word yet. 

Jason took her wheelchair, folded it into the small compartment behind the engine battery and confiscated her communicator and phone. She has no idea where they are going. It’s been about 20 minutes now. Barbara counts her heartbeats, forces her heart to remain steady and allow her to track the time. 20 minutes into either direction from Wayne Tower is still inside the city. She tried to follow the turns of the car and apply it to the map of the city inside her mind, but Jason has gone in circles and wild turns several times by now and she has lost sense of direction. She feels dizzy.

The red light of the console in the cockpit casts gray shadows unto the metal surrounding her. There are several latches holding weapons and the electrical wiring of the car. If she had any tools to open them, she’d be able to short circuit the wires and stop the car. But she has nothing usefully and she can’t pry the metal caps from their base with her bare fingers. She has tried already, right at the beginning when Jason placed her inside the seat, but the crusted blood on her fingers is all she gained from it. And she lost two nails.

Jason had been very careful, when he had lifted her out of her wheelchair and into the car. Whatever his plans are, she doubts that it is to harm her or he would have done so already. No reason to be gentle if he wanted to kill her anyway. And what happened at the cave doesn’t add up either.

The others are trapped inside, that’s a fact. Also, that Jason was the one who locked them in there. But he didn’t try to hurt them, did he? He had destroyed the computer and changed the security protocols, which doesn’t allow anyone to leave without his permission. But it also means that nobody else can enter except him. With the Batmobiles right down in the cave, he had enough fire power to destroy the cave completely, make the walls cave and sink Wayne Manor right alongside it. But Jason hadn’t done that. He had fired just enough for the tunnels to collapse and make the emergency exit unusable. What for?

Barbara is left to her thoughts for another 5 minutes, there are still no connections she can see, no sense she can make of the events of this night, as the car suddenly stops. The roof opens up, revealing the dark, cloudy Gotham sky she grew up with. It’s raining softly. They are parked in a narrow street or alley between two black buildings. There are no windows on the buildings’ sides, but a metal ladder leads up one of them. There are no street lights around.

She can hear Jason’s movements behind her. He jumps out of the car, the sound of his steps heavy on the wet ground. Then there’s the familiar sound of her wheelchair being unfolded. The hinges creak slightly when they are bent a bit too far.

A few seconds later a dark figure looms over her from above the car. When she looks up, she can only see gray shadows, Jason’s face is obscured by darkness. He is offering her a hand, to help her out of the car. Barbara stares at his outstretched fingers, hesitates. Instead of grabbing her and lifting her out of the car with force, Jason waits. He’s still wearing the cowl but the lenses are dark. 

Barbara waits a few more seconds, before she takes his hand. As careful as he can, he helps her lift herself up and out of the car. Jason carries her down from the Batmobile and places her into the wheelchair already waiting right beside the tires. Finally outside of the car, Barbara tries to orient herself again. The buildings are clearly warehouses, this is not a residential area. She can smell seawater, so they are either close to one of the rivers or one of the harbors. Question is just, west or east side?

Jason shoulders a bag and steps up beside her. “Follow me.” he tells her, turns towards the left building and walks towards it. Stunned Barbara is left behind. He doesn’t even make sure that she follows him. Quickly she checks her weapons. The stun gun is still there, right beneath the metal clasp holding it in place. There is no way Jason forgot to take it. They all know about each other’s secret weapon stashes and gadgets, at least when it comes to their costumes. He must have left it there on purpose. 

Across the narrow street, Barbara watches Jason walk up to a door. There’s a retinal scanner at the right side, she can see the light wash over Jason’s face before the door opens slowly. Beside her the Batmobile locks down into security mode. And in front of her Jason walks into the building without a glance over his shoulder, checking if she is indeed following him or not.

“Dammit!” Barbara growls, her fingers have gripped the armrests of her chair so tightly she can feel the blood well up again from her torn nails. What the hell is going on here?

There are only two options. She can follow Jason or run. Neither seem very promising. Depending on where she is, it could take while to get back to the Clocktower. She has no cell phone or money, and if she left now a lot of time could pass before she got her hands on a phone or computer. And Jason is still a wild card, who could be up to nothing good with a Batmobile at his hands and whatever is inside that warehouse. On top of that, Dick is MIA, which means he must be in trouble. There’s a small chance Jason does have something to do with it, Dick might even be in this warehouse, needing help. Jason knows about the trackers, he could have torn it from the costume and left it before taking Dick.

The timing doesn’t add up though. Then again, maybe Tim had tried to reach her for quite some time before he got a call through. Jason could have blown up the cave more than an hour ago, then taken Dick and moved him somewhere, before picking her up. Barbara had been at the lab in Wayne Tower for several hours, Bruce could have gone to get the new suit and get back to the cave easily within that time frame. But why hadn’t she been able to contact Lucius before she left? Had Bruce already left by that point, Lucius would have at least told her he was leaving, if not come by himself and say goodbye. She doubts he wouldn’t have tried to offer assistance once more, so what has happened to him? Did Jason capture him as well? But why? And how? 

Apart from Bruce, only Barbara has access to all parts of Wayne Tower (especially the secret R&D division Lucius operates from there). All members of the family can gain access to Bruce’s office on the top floor of the tower, but to get past security for the R&D development floors requires a security clearance Jason doesn’t have. Unless he forced Lucius to allow him access. Or he hacked into the protocols and changed them to give himself clearance.

“Fuck…” Barbara rubs her eyes beneath her glasses. They are already smudged and dirty from the rain. There are too many options, too many possibilities and things that could have happened, she can’t leave Jason on his own. If he’s dangerous, she needs to know what he is planning to do. Hopefully Dick is alright. She’ll get back to searching for him as soon as she can. But first of all, she has to make sure Jason isn’t planning anything disastrous for the city. Or his family. Even he hasn’t done anything else already. 

Her heartbeat quickens, as she makes her way over to the door of the building. The hallway inside is only lit by frail, yellow light. There’s another door at the end, open, but behind it lays only darkness. Barbara makes her way down the hall, through the next door, right into the shadows. Behind her the outer door creaks loudly as it falls closed.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like some parts of the story are very confusing and I apologize for that, but just bear with me a bit more and some things will become clear!  
> Hope until then you can still enjoy this mess of raised questions :)

There is no way out of the tunnels. He can’t even make it far into the first one before the rubble makes it impossible to move further. Here and there are holes between the rocks, big enough for a grown man to crawl through. But what would they find behind them? Maybe another wall of rocks or, if there are lucky, even more holes to crawl through until they get lost in a labyrinth of stone? Seems too dangerous to try. 

Tim pushes against the nearest rock with his staff. It moves, ever so slightly. Then there’s the sound of smaller pebbles falling to the ground. One wrong move and the stones could shift again. That definitely rules out this possible exit. Maybe Bruce had more luck trying to reboot the system. The Batcomputer itself is toast, but the backup system running through the Clocktower’s computers should still be accessible. If only they could find a way to run it on the limited system on their cell phone.

Jason had really thought of everything, or so it seems. Without any help, they’ll be trapped inside the cave for several more hours, maybe days. If all else fails, they have to rip the metal shields from the elevator and climb up to the manor. The necessary tools for that task were destroyed, as the main platform collapsed down into the water and most of the smaller platforms are inaccessible due to rocks. He and Bruce both still have their grappling hooks, they could reach the other platforms that way, but the ceiling appears unstable, cracked throughout many places. If they tried to hang or swing from it, they might fall. Especially someone as heavy as Bruce. That means they can’t reach the other equipment safely. And without adequate tools, taking off the metal covers will take forever (if it is even possible for them, because Bruce, of course, designed the structures of the cave to withstand heavy force).

Which rules out that possible solution as well. At least they aren’t injured severely, for the most part. Alfred inhaled a lot of smoke, but he’s looking better now. He stopped coughing as well. Bruce seems pretty banged up though. When the computer screen exploded, he had been standing right in front of it. The glass shards hadn’t hurt him too much, just a few cuts on his hands and chin are visible, but the blast threw him backwards against the rocks and he probably has a mild concussion and quite a few bruises from the impact. Hopefully nothing is broken. Not that Tim would be able to tell, Bruce can hide any kind of pain pretty damn well if he chooses to.

Tim definitely has a sprained wrist though. At least that’s what it feels like. He had to jump out of the way of some falling rocks, landed on a tilting platform and had to swing across a gap between the metal to stable platform. When he landed there, he felt his wrist twist painfully. Of course they all have a lot of training under their belt, but half of the cave exploding, he would call that unpredictable. That’s not something you can train for specifically.

Hopefully Barbara has a plan to get them out of here quickly. He has tried to reach her several more times, with no luck. If she was able to understand everything he ad htried to tell her, she’ll be alerted, look for Dick and keep an eye out for Jason. And send someone to get them out as well.

He makes his way back to the others. As he jumps across several platforms that are still mostly intact, more rocks tumble down into the water. Alfred is sitting on a rock close to the doors of the elevator. Bruce is standing behind him, leaning with one shoulder against the wall. He stares at the screen of Tim’s phone in his hand.

“The tunnels won’t get us anywhere.” Tim walks up to Alfred, sits down beside him. “I climbed as far as I safely could. The rocks are still moving, everything is unstable. We’d be crushed, if we tried to get through.”

Alfred turns to him. His face is smeared with dust and sweat. “The elevator isn’t of much use either. The wiring inside the manual control panel is burned, only melted plastic and metal is left inside.”

If Tim weren’t so pissed at Jason (or rather not-Jason, because as far as he is concerned, that person is not their Jason and whoever he is, he is dangerous) he’d even be impressed. On top of blowing up the computer and ruining their backup plan of using the network through other devices, he also managed to direct power surges into specific parts of the cave and render all manual control panels useless. And he did it without destroying the digital control panels. That way not-Jason still has an entry into the cave, but they can’t get out without triggering the Code Red emergency protocol, that could end up killing them, given the overall condition the cave is in. If they want to change the security codes and retinal scan data safely, they have to do it through a digital network. 

Tim risks a glance at Bruce. The other is still leaning against the wall and staring at the screen in front of him. There isn’t much light left in the cave, only a few lamps survived the power surge. The harsh, white light on Bruce’s bare face makes him look 20 years older. And bone-tired. 

“What about the reboot of the system?” As response Bruce only grunts.

Tim sighs and turns back around. An hour, maybe even more, must have passed, since Jason took the Batmobile and drove off, leaving the cave in ruins. He could be out of the city already. But where would he go? And why is he even here in the first place? What connection do their Jason and that other person have? It can’t be a coincidence that one vanished and another appeared. And there must have been a plan behind not-Jason’s act, playing their Jason’s role. He must have already gotten from the cave, from them, what he wanted, or he wouldn’t have blown his cover so willingly. But what did he seek down here?

Bruce grunts again as the phone in his hands beeps warningly.

“Still no luck?” Tim smiles a little, despite their current situation. Bruce must hate being bested by this Jason. He has been trying to reboot the network on Tim’s phone for the past hour, but he can’t get any further than Tim did on his earlier tries. If they aren’t careful, the phone will run out of battery before they manage to do anything helpful.

It takes about a minute before Bruce answers. “The most recent system version is unavailable. I can access the old archive, version 1.02 easily, but the passwords on the encrypted files were changed.”

“Can you trace back the changes through the tracing data files?” Every change to the system or network is recorded and saved in the archive in encrypted files. If anything feels suspicious, they can always trace the changes back to their original source. In theory at least.

Bruce types a few more digits, the phone beeps and seemingly crashes again. “Jason-” Bruce stops abruptly after the name, audibly hesitates before he continues. “He used an automatic override program that changed the passwords 25 times before setting up the final, new one. It could take hours to trace back to the original code and restore it. Even with the computer at full capacity. If we had access to the compressed archive and the Clocktower’s network, it would still take as long.”

Alfred dusts off his suit as best as he can. “Our access to water and food is limited to the items that didn’t fall into the stream. We won’t be able to stay down here for long. And our means of communication are limited as well.”

“I’m well aware of our situation, Alfred.” Bruce growls.

“Barbara has probably figured out something already.” Tim interrupts. Bruce has that glint in his eyes that makes him look dangerous and is often enough followed by unpredictable actions. It’s never a good sign when the other grows impatient. He’s in full costume, the cape colored gray from dust, and the cowl propped up on a rock beside him. Even like this, he looks intimidating.

“I told her about-” Tim thinks of something else to say than the name Jason “the attack and that we are trapped. About Dick and that we can’t reach him either. She’ll bust us out in no time.” Hopefully. It’s only been an hour, even Barbara needs some time to organize a rescue of this scale.

The others don’t seem that optimistic. Alfred nods at him and tries a faint smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes and his shoulders visibly slump. This must be so hard for him too. Tim himself had hoped that their Jason had finally returned, he can’t imagine what hope Alfred must have put in his appearance, only to be so utterly disappointed. And Bruce, well, Tim has seen him lose Jason twice already and third time’s really not the charm here. It’s devastating, Tim can feel the strain in the other two and how it slowly tears them apart.

He’s not doing so great, either. Jason is part of his family too. And if this other person is not their Jason, then that opens up a whole lot of possibilities of what could have happened to him and Tim would rather not imagine them as vividly as he is starting to. he needs to focus on something else.

Alfred seems to sense his distress. He turns to him slowly and places a hand on his shoulder. “Everything alright?”

Whatever the situation, Alfred always tries to make others feel better in any way he can. Often enough, it works on them. Tim is no exception. He is still worried, but he feels a bit calmer, the weight of Alfred’s hand on his shoulder grounding him. “I’m okay.” he assures. “The wrist isn’t bothering me too much.”

“I didn’t mean just physically.” Alfred raises one eyebrow.

Tim shrugs. This is not the right time for these kinds of questions. Maybe once this whole mess is dealt with, they can try to approach those issues. But Alfred shouldn’t start with him, he should direct his concerns at Bruce. Tim can deal with this, really. It’s Jason, he’ll bounce back from whatever happened to him, Tim’s sure of that. He had done so in the past, why would this be any different? Out of all of them, Tim is pretty sure he’s the one with the most hope left. Dick was a mess when Jason vanished and Bruce was, well, he was even worse off. If anyone needs Alfred’s concern, it should be them. And while they are grieving and trying to keep themselves together, Tim will follow leads, piece together hints and evidence and hopefully solve all of this quickly, so they can return back to normal.

Bruce once again curses at the phone, in a language Tim doesn’t recognize. Could be Slavic, maybe some sort of dialect? But whatever Bruce did say, it means that he’s still not making any progress. But as long as he’s still trying, he must feel that he’s getting closer to something. Better to let him work and wait until that option runs out as well.

In silence him and Alfred wait. It doesn’t take too long before Bruce gives up on cracking Jason’s new security codes through Tim’s phone. Wordlessly he hands the device back to Tim. “I’ll use the explosive gel to blow up the metal shields of the elevator. Just in case, prepare for more falling rocks. Cover Alfred, if you have to.” Tim nods at Bruce and watches him walk up to the elevator and its closed doors.

This is probably their worst option. The cave seems unstable enough as it is, without adding more vibration through even more explosions. But what else could they try to open the metal with? Their bare hands won’t do, the structure is too sturdy for that. Tim glances at Alfred. The other seems as unenthusiastic about this option as he is. It’d be safer to wait for Barbara to deploy whatever rescue mission she has organized for them. But Bruce is not the kind of person who can sit back and do nothing. As long as he has options left, he’s going to try them, as dangerous as they might be.

They prepare for the first shockwave. With his staff in his hands, feet planted firmly on the ground, Tim watches Bruce apply the gel and ignite it with an electrical surge from the built in shocker of his costume. The gel on the doors explodes, dust and dirt swirl up around them. The shockwave is minimal, but the cave rumbles and small rocks tumble down from the ceiling. Tim manages to hit all of those coming down at him and Alfred with his staff and swing them away from their platform. As the dust settles, there’s a dent in the doors. If Bruce manages to keep the explosions small enough, then over time the metal should give. In case he has enough explosive gel left, of course.

Bruce sets out to apply another layer of gel and Tim prepares for a second shockwave going through the cave, as his phone, which he had put back into one of his pockets, starts vibrating. Slowly he reaches for it and takes it out. For a few seconds he remains frozen, just stares at the screen. Jason’s ghost number flashes across it in bright letters. 

His stomach rumbles with unease. It’s a message, with a picture attached. 

_Leave me alone. Or I’ll have to use more drastic measures._

Tim gulps while reading the message. He fears for the picture, pleads in his mind for something harmless, maybe just a destroyed Batmobile, but deep down he knows. There’s only one possible option, given Jason’s recent actions and the fact that he could reach Barbara, but not Dick.

The image loads, painfully slow due to the weak connection in the cave. First it shows the roof of a room, black and gray concrete, covered in cobwebs in all corners. Can’t be an apartment, it must be a warehouse or an industrial building. There are power lines in one corner, leading from an empty lamp socket out of the frame.  
The next bit loads. It shows walls without paint, just gray concrete and stones. There’s a small window with metal rods. No light is coming through it. It must be night outside, without any street lights in close vicinity. Or it is below ground level and the window just connects to a hall or another room.

Tim doesn’t realize that he’s holding his breath. But as the next part of the picture loads, he let’s the air out at once, curses with it. It is Dick, prepped up on an aluminum hospital cot, unconscious, bound by leather straps all over his body. His mask is missing, his face covered in black patches, hopefully just dirt or dust. His suit is stained with dirt as well, maybe even blood, but the picture is too gloomy to tell for sure. The fabric around his wrists is singed from fire and there is definitely crusted blood on his fingers.

The rest of the image loads. In the very left corner, nearly obscured by the edge of the metal table or cupboard the camera is posed on, is a red dot of color. The object is out of focus, but the bright red color and familiar shape are enough for Tim to recognize it. It’s a Red Hood helmet. 

Too engrossed in his thoughts he doesn’t notice the others gathering around him. Only as Bruce plucks the phone from his fingers, does he whip around in surprise. Alfred looks shaken with fear and worry. Bruce stares at the screen, bright fury burning in his eyes. His hand around the phone trembles. 20 seconds, 30 seconds, neither dares to speak a word. Tim watches Bruce’s eyes dart across the picture, committing every detail to memory. His eyebrows are drawn together, the corners of his mouth turned upwards into a grim snarl. Another 10 seconds pass, the trembling in his hand increases until _crack_ the phone breaks apart between Bruce’s fingers. Wordlessly he lets it drop to the ground and turns around.

Tim watches him walk back up to the elevator and braces for what is about to come. Bruce will get them out of here. No matter what it takes. He has to.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait...  
> As life tends to be, you plan for one specific thing but end up with more on your plate than you can handle in a timely manner. But that is taken care of~
> 
> Thanks for your patience and enjoy the next chapter!

The inside of the warehouse mirrors its outside. Light is sparse. Barbara enters a great hall, barely lit and dusty. It’s a single wide room with a high ceiling, no windows on any side. The only natural light source is a ceiling window right above them. It’s Gotham, Barbara can’t see any stars in the sky, only the city’s lights reflected by gray clouds. It’s gloomy and the soft rain on the glass hums as constant white noise in the background.

Jason has already taken his seat in front of a cluster of computer screens. They are mismatched in color, shape and size, hastily put together and held on the wall by metal wiring. He has taken off the cowl, it rests on the side of the table he’s sitting at. This is not one of his usual warehouses, can’t be. The state of the computer setup matches the mess of boxes and shelves carelessly thrown into all four corners of the room. Barbara can see guns and clothing smashed together into boxes that look like they’ve been flipped open, rummaged through and then left like that. The shelves don’t match and aren’t secured to the walls. Some of them lean to their sides, either due to poor assembly or crooked parts.

The computer screens blink in varies colors and letters. On some runs an endless cycle of code, compressed tightly with barely any empty space between the letters. Others show maps of varies parts of Gotham and outlines of traffic lanes, underground tunnel systems and radio masts. The screen right in the middle is blank, only filled with a solid blue background. Jason keeps staring at it, while he hastily types on the keyboard. 

Barbara focuses on the screens with code. Overall it’s 3 of them. One is just a standard operation code, directing which information runs through which screen. Another shows a self-system analysis, which parts of the operating system are running and which are shut off due to capacity restrictions. - the code continues like this, line after line.

The last screen puzzles her. The lines of code make no sense. Is it a new coding language she hasn’t seen before? Highly unlikely, but what other explanation could there be? She doesn’t recognize any of the keywords that run across the screen in yellow and slightly crooked letters. A few words and phrases repeat every other line, the rest, though composed of English words, makes no sense to her.

Barbara makes her way around the setup, she circles Jason’s back carefully. He seems occupied by the screens in front of him, he doesn’t glance back at her or tracks her movement. The sound of her wheels on the concrete floor is scratchy, loud in the otherwise silent room. Only Jason’s typing is loud enough to drown out the rain.

What are they doing here? She maps out the room, glances at the corners, searches for another door, hatch or anything else that might suggest a connected room or pathway. Apart from the entrance they used to enter, there seems to be no other path. Does the building have a basement? How would you get there if there are no doors or staircases? Maybe a secret latch hiding beneath the floor? Her eyes travel from one side to the other. She finds nothing.

That makes it unlikely for Dick to be here. Where would Jason keep him?? If this is just a temporary hideout, then there could be others. Even nearby. She turns back towards the maps on the screens. Some places are marked in red. She recognizes several locations. The clocktower, GCPD, two warehouses Dick likes to use when he is in Gotham, Tim’s apartment rented under his parent’s name, and other places connected to their nightly activities. Other locations are marked in green. Jason’s safe houses, at least the ones Barbara knows about. The remaining locations are a mystery to her. Maybe other temporary hideouts, just like this one?

She commits the places to memory, before she moves on to another screen with another map of Gotham. This one shows tunnels and pathways of Gotham’s underground. Unused metro tunnels and stations, as well as water tunnels and electrical circuits built underneath the city to keep it running. There are no marks on the map, just numbers and letters scattered across it. Maybe timestamps? All numbers are composed of 4 digits, the letters have different combinations. At first glance, she can’t make out a pattern. 

“If you have a question, ask.” Jason interrupts her thoughts suddenly. He doesn’t turn around, doesn’t stop typing. “You are thinking too loud.”

Carefully she turns towards him. To be safe she keeps enough distance to him that he can’t lunge at her unexpectedly. Barbara doesn’t have much experience with this “Jason” (or whoever else he might be), but she knows their Jason is strong, capable of jumping quiet far and doing so swiftly as well. Better be safe than sorry.

“You know,” Jason’s shoulders drop and he stops typing for a moment. “Our deal still stands.”

Barbara manages to suppress her CHUCKLE. She’s not going to fall for this. Why should she trust anything he tells her? Especially now. But maybe she can get some information out of him. For whatever reasons he seems eager to talk or he wouldn’t have brought up the deal they made back in the cave. Bruce’s voice echoes in her mind. _Keep talking. Eventually lies will turn to truths and whatever the mind tries to keep hidden will inevitably spill out._

“You said there was no time to lose… why?” Barbara asks, as Jason’s fingers resume their work on the keyboard. “And why would you need me?” She asks, stares at the back of his head, shoulders and arms. Jason carries the same tension she does, his muscles prepared for a fight, to jump out of the way if she tried to attack him from behind.

“I thought I had more time.” he snarls. “To prepare better. But I guess I’ve run out of luck. Well, had to happen at some point.”

His strained voice betrays his casual words. Barbara can hear worry, tension, even fear in his voice. He doesn’t stutter, the tone of his voice doesn’t waver, but there’s a hitch at the end of his sentences, a breathless hiss that has settled into his throat and he can’t get rid of. They’ve all trained for this. Every Robin, every Batgirl has had the lessons drilled into their bones. To fight their natural instincts, clamp down on all emotions if the need arises and never let fear or worry take over. Dick sounds like this when he asks about Damian after his solo missions with the Teen Titans. Tim sounds like this, when he asks Alfred for updates on Bruce’s broken bones and torn ligaments. Barbara knows she sounds like this, when she calls GCPD to talk to her father, when his tracker stops working for any reason.

They have all trained for this. But they are still human.

Several moments of silence pass between them. “More time for what?” Barbara asks again, the sound of her words echoes through the room.

Jason stops moving. The click-clack of the mechanical keyboard fades until there’s nothing but the rhythmic sound of raindrops against the glass above them. The blue screen in front of him turns black. White letters blink across it. _INITIATE_

“I need your help.” Jason faces her completely. His eyes are dark, cast in shadows. “Alone, I have no chance of beating him.” His fingers are splayed flat on his thighs, but she can still see them tremble. He leans forward, his head hung low. Through his bangs he catches her gaze, watches her, his face unmoving. “I run. And run. But he always catches up.”

“Who?” she asks, grips the sides of her wheelchair tightly. There’s a glint in Jason’s eyes, a dangerous and powerful spark, either born of conviction or insanity.

“Bruce Wayne.” Jason hisses, as if burned by the name alone. He turns back to the screens, pushes his chair back towards the left side, facing the various blueprints of Gotham. “Do you ever ask yourself, what would have happened, had your life been different?” he reaches for the keyboard, types in a string of letters that appear on one of the screens. Several video screens pop up. “Had your life taken a different turn somewhere in your past, who would you be today?” more typing. Several of the videos start running, showing crosswalks, traffic lights, billboards on skyscrapers. Barbara recognizes the video file she had found in her data archive, the blinking of the screen runs the same Morse code it did before. She recognizes the same code in the other videos as well. One billboard flickers on and off, a crosswalk switches from green to red, all at the same intervals. They all convey the same message.

_Beware Wayne trust Batman_

Jason turns his body halfway back towards her. “I stumbled upon the answers to that question. In fact, I got so many answers that I’m sick and tired of them.” He pushes back the chair he’s sitting on, takes a few steps towards Barbara. With his left hand he reaches for the cape draped over his side and pulls out a gun from beneath it.

Barbara’s heart stops. There’s no point in running, the only exit this place has is all away across the room. There’s no place to hide nearby, nothing to take cover behind, at least not quickly enough. She still has the stun gun, she could grab it, fire at him. But as long as he is wearing the Batsuit, it won’t do her much good. If she wants to disarm him, he needs to get closer. Barbara locks the brakes of her chair. If he gets close enough, she can jump forward, knock the gun out of his hands and hopefully land a powerful enough blow to his throat to knock him out. Inside her mind she counts his steps, focuses on the point on the floor he needs to reach before she can tackle him.

The gun swings in his palm, back and forth, oddly enough, she realizes, he has grabbed it by the barrel, pointing it behind himself. As if he knew how far he can safely get, Jason stops before he is in Barbara’s reach.

“Stop playing games!” Barbara shouts at him. Get him riled up, get him closer, if he’s angry or cocky enough, he’ll make mistakes. “You think I’m going to trust anything you say? After what happened to Dick? And what about Bruce, Tim and Alfred, stuck in the cave? I don’t know who you are, but I’m damn sure I can’t trust you. So stop pretending you only have our best interest in mind.”

She stares at him. He stares back. The light of the screens behind him casts his face in shadows. Is he smiling? She can’t tell. He has stopped moving completely. The gun inside his hand points towards his side, away from her. Is he trying to appear harmless? Make her feel safe so she drops her guard? Barbara is sure he has realized that she locked her wheels and is prepared to fight him if she has to. What is he trying to do?

Jason watches her with dark eyes. Is he just looking at her? Maybe he’s assessing the situation, trying to come up with a plan himself to overpower her? He has a gun, he has a clear advantage. Then again, if this Jason knows anything about her, he should know how dangerous Barbara can be even without weapons or armor. 

“I’m trying to keep all of you safe.” he tells her, his voice hoarse as if the words are still halfway stuck in his chest and it costs him to force them out. “What I did in the cave was necessary. Nobody gets out-” he raises the gun towards her “and nobody gets in.”

Barbara jerks, that’s it, he’s doing it, she needs to react, quick, move to the side, lean over, fall to the ground, hopefully he’ll miss, hopefully he’s aiming for her head, so she can duck down quickly, if he hits her chest, she’s done for -

Instead of a shot, something else hits her, right across her belly. It’s the gun itself, landing in her lap between her fingers. The safety on it clicks. It’s loaded, she can feel the added weight of the bullets, the metal cold and hard under her fingertips. In front of her, Jason’s sinks down unto his knees, the cape spreads out behind him like a veil. 

“I know how this looks.” his voice is faint. “I understand why you won’t trust me. And I’m okay with that. Keep the gun, do what you have to, if you feel there’s no other way.” For several moments both remain silent. Jason’s gaze is focused on her, unyielding, the glint from before still visible in his eyes. “But I had to do this.”

Barbara is tempted to ask. Do what exactly? Take over the city? Kidnap Dick? Injure the others and lock them away underground? The gun in her hand feels heavy. Slowly she points it at Jason. She knows the suit, knows where to aim, to hurt, to kill if necessary. Jason has placed his hands on his thighs, spread his fingers over the material of the suit. He doesn’t react much to the loaded gun pointed at him. He stares past it right into Barbara’s eyes. Why did he give her this weapon? What’s his plan?

“There’s a second Bruce Wayne in this reality, chasing me. And he’s anything but nice. Please Barbara…” there’s that hitch again, right at the end of her name. The proof of fear and worry, of helplessness and too many other emotions pushed down deeply. “I can’t protect you all on my own.”

It doesn’t make sense. And yet, it does. If a second Jason is here (in case he really is from another reality), there could be a second Bruce Wayne as well. And he might not be too friendly. But how can she trust this Jason? So far she only has his word, no solid proof of anything else. Yes, he had the chance to seriously injure Tim and the others, but instead only locked them in the cave. That could have been unintentional though. 

And what about Dick? Where is he and what has happened to him? He could still be trapped someplace only Jason knows about and be kept as leverage. And Barbara isn’t even sure that she can help Jason anyway. So far he has shown capability and resources Barbara hadn’t suspected he possessed. He managed to hack into a security system they had thought to be secure and remain undetected while doing so. Is their Jason capable of that? Barbara isn’t sure, but then again, they hadn’t worked together closely in the past year, he could have gained even more skills they are unaware of. Jason has other friends and usually spends more time with them than with his actual family. They could have taught him a new trick or two.

She feels the strain of the loaded gun in her hands. “I want the whole story. Now.” With her free hand she unlocks the brakes on her wheelchair, slowly rolls closer towards the other. “No omitted details, no ‘I’ll only tell you what I want to tell you’-crap.” She lowers the gun, pointing the barrel right between Jason’s eyes. He stares back at her. “You try to trick me and you’re done.”

Jason keeps still for several heartbeats. His reaction is careful, even cautious. Barbara has made her point clear and he seems to believe her. 

He leans back, raises his head slightly. “For me, more than 2 years have passed.” Jason begins, clears his throat before he can continue. He lowers his gaze again, stares down at the concrete floor in front of him. “This is the 32nd reality I’ve been to. I… met him early on, earth-8. He’s been chasing me since then. First, I didn’t realize.” Jason’s voice falters, his fingers rub circles over the fabric of his thighs. Barbara can see the slight tremble in his elbows. “It used to take him weeks to find me, now it seems it’s merely days.” His voice trembles as well.

Only for a moment Jason raises his head enough for their gazes to meet. “Why is he chasing you?” Barbara asks, she can feel her own arms shake and her fingers twitch.

“Because I’m the Robin who died…” There’s despair on Jason’s face, the tense mask of a painful memories, of nightmares and screams in the darkness, pushed down so deep they shouldn’t be anything more than fading reflections. But they are still there. 

“And… I came back… but his Jason didn’t.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all once again for the very nice comments, all the new kudos, subscriptions and bookmarks! I'm really happy to see that people like my story. This is my first long fic project for a good 10 years or so... I feel a bit rusty, but I'm glad it can still be entertaining for you!  
> Hope you'll keep enjoying it to the end (whenever that will be :) )

It takes a few minutes for Barbara to process the information she’s been given. The thoughts swirl inside her mind. Is he lying? Is he telling the truth? Do his words sound plausible? She looks at Jason, who hasn’t moved from the floor yet. He stares back, but his gaze doesn’t settle on her, he stares past her into the darkness over her shoulder. The tremor in his arms has stopped but he’s still unsettled. His breath is short, huffed and irregular. 

He tries to smile, but still looks shaken. “Are you deciding whether or not you should shoot me now?” he asks, his voice uneven

That’s not her intention, no. There’s still too much left unsaid (in case he has told her the truth). And if he hasn’t, there’s still too much for her to figure out. She needs a good grasp on the whole picture before she can think of dismissing him. Barbara thinks back on the time in the cave, when she confronted Jason the first time. Had he lied back then as well?

She watches him, takes in his slumped frame and glinting eyes. The suit makes him look broad, tall, dangerous in its own way. It doesn’t fit him the same way it wouldn’t fit Dick. Jason seems lost in it. With a sigh she lowers the gun, places it in her lap, the barrel still facing Jason. “Get up.” she orders, her words sharp. “I’m not going to shoot you. But if you were worried about that, you shouldn’t have given me the gun in the first place.”

Slowly Jason rises from the ground. The smile on his face is more relaxed now. “Yeah, bad move on my side. Won’t happen again.” He turns back towards the computer screens, resumes his place in the chair in front of them.

“What are you doing here?” She asks. There are some questions she needs answers to first. Why is Jason here, in this warehouse? What’s the purpose of it? What does he need her help for, when he seems capable enough without her expertise? What happened to Dick? Is Jason in any way responsible for his disappearance? And if not, how can they help him? And what about the others in the cave? Will Jason leave them there and for how long? Who is he trying to protect them from? And is locking them underground really the best way to do so?

Jason turns halfway back to her. “I needed a new base.” He motions around the warehouse. “Yeah, it’s not much, only had a few days to move everything, but it’ll do.”

Barbara’s brows knit together. A few days? Hadn’t he said he had come back only the previous day, when they found him on the roof of the GCPD? So he had lied to her. Slowly she wheels a bit closer, to get in range of Jason, in case she needs to. “What for? And why do you need my help?”

He watches her come closer. His shoulders are once again tense, but he doesn’t move away. “You don’t believe me, do you?” Jason asks her outright, his eyes searching hers.

No, she doesn’t. How could she? Too much doesn’t add up and too many different things point towards Jason as a potential threat rather than a still undiscovered third party. Why would this other Bruce Wayne pose any threat towards them? If he is after Jason, wouldn’t he rather ask for their help instead of trying to sabotage them? This is their reality, their home, they have connections and knowledge this other Bruce would benefit from. It’d be counterproductive to make enemies of them.

Furthermore, why would he chase Jason through dozens of other realities (not to mention _how_ he’s capable of that)? What would he gain from that in regards to his own Jason’s death (if that is indeed the reason for his chase and not another lie Jason is telling her)?

“Give me one reason why I should.” They are face to face, eyes locked, muscles tense and ready.

Jason keeps still for several moments. He’s watching her, let’s his gaze wander across her whole body until it stops on the gun in her lap, still pointed towards him, her finger clasped around the trigger. “I can’t convince you.” he closes his eyes. “As much as I could try, you’d still be cautious. And you should.” He turns back towards the screens. “Were I in your shoes, I would have knocked me out already.” He starts typing on the screens. “But maybe Eve can ease your mind a bit…” He pushes the chair back from the setup.

 _INITIATE_ _INITIATE_ _INITIATE_ _INITIATE_ _INITIATE_ ———

Suddenly the blinking letters on the screen stop, they begin to fade and the screen turns a dark green color. Instead of letters, tiny little cubes appear on the screen. They tilt and spin into various directions, forming a mass of wild movement and chaos. It lasts merely seconds, then a shape forms from the cubes, taking over half of the big screen. Eyes, nose, chin, hair, a familiar face appears from the cubes.

“ _Hello, Barbara._ ” an artificial voice echoes through the warehouse, as the face blinks at her. 

Barbara stares at the replica of her own face, formed by thousands of tiny cubes on the big screen. The head seems to protrude from the screen, as if pushing out of the glass and into the space in front of it. The hair on it moves with every turn the shape makes. First it looks at her, then turns left towards Jason.

“ _My name is Eve._ ” 

What the hell? 

“ _It’s nice to finally meet you._ ”

The head has turned back to her, keeps staring at her. 

“What the-” Before Barbara can finish, the screen interrupts her. “ _Carolyn Keene._ ”

That makes Barbara stop immediately. Had she heard right? She stares ahead at the screen, at her own face mirrored there. Is that image smiling? Why has it said that name? How does it know about Carolyn Keene? Did someone profile her? Did Jason? He shouldn’t know that information. It’s been so long since she last read a book by Carolyn Keene (yeah, she knows it’s not a real name but a synonym for many authors, but she loved the Nancy Drew Mystery series as a child and still keeps some copies at home). The name used to be her first computer password and since then she has used different references to the series for other aspects of her work as Oracle. It’s not something she has ever shared with anyone outside her direct family. Her father knows she loved the books, but that’s it. He wouldn’t know that connected names and titles are scattered throughout her databases to protect sensitive information.

Nobody else could possibly know about that. But that face in front of her smiles, like it is aware of Barbara’s secret, as if it knows all the little things she has ever kept to herself. Without thought she aims for the computer screen, pulls the trigger and watches the bullet tear through the computer screen with ease, shards of glass and metal flying everywhere. Jason barely has time to duck away, cover his face as the rain of glass comes down on him.

“ _Barbara, please._ ” the voice echoes around her once again.

Of course that didn’t do any harm, she just destroyed a screen, not the hardware the program (or whatever else it might be) is running on. But she couldn’t help it. Her arms are still stretched out, pointing at the blasted screen. 

“Dammit…” Jason curses and shakes the glass out of his hair. A tiny trail of blood runs down his right cheek. “Okay, please Barbara, listen-” he faces her, his arms reaching out towards the weapon in her hands. “Please, let me explain, okay?” Carefully Jason places one hand on top of Barbara’s, pushes the gun down towards the floor. She keeps staring at the other screens that are still intact. One on the bottom turns dark green and the face reappears. 

She’s about to raise the gun once more, but Jason wrestles her arms down. “Don’t, Barbara, please!”

The face stares at her, she stares back. This is bad, really bad, she has been compromised, somehow they got more information on her than she ever anticipated. She has never written it down anywhere, encrypted it all in her databases, hidden it so deeply in its code, it should be impossible to extract. Unless they managed to get the information straight out of her brain. 

“If you’d just listen-”

Barbara jerks her arm free, punches Jason straight in the face and feels the bone of his nose give away under her fist. He stumbles back, crashes against the table of his setup and falls down to the floor. This time, Barbara points the gun at him again.

“Damn-” Jason curses loudly, smears blood from his nose and cheek over his face as he sets the broken bone straight. “Fuck!”  
He pushes back against the table, leans his back against one of its legs. “Every single time, I swear-” Jason ends the curse with a few words in a language Barbara doesn’t understand. 

“What is this?” she shouts, the barrel of the gun sways dangerously.

“ _Please, let me explain._ ” the voice interrupts them. The shape of her own face stares at Barbara, its eyebrows pulled together. “ _Barbara, you programmed me. Another version of you that is very similar to yourself. All the information I have, that you gave to me. To convince you, here, now, that I mean no harm._ ”

That makes Barbara pause. What is this _thing_? A simulation? AI? How can it react to her and Jason’s interactions so easily? 

“ _You created me, to help Jason on his journey. I was designed for one purpose alone, to stop Bruce Wayne._ ”

Jason manages to get back on his feet. He rubs at his cheeks and chin until most of the blood is gone. He holds his hands in front of himself, showing Barbara his palms, as he steps closer. “You programmed Eve and gave her to me, so she could help me. I met you on my journey-” Jason stops in front of her, beckons her to look at him. “She’s a special kind of AI, able to hack into any other program easily, because she can disguise herself as a part of the other program’s code. That’s how I managed to get around your security system in the Clocktower and how I changed the passwords of the cave.”

Barbara shifts her gaze to the computer screen that had puzzled her before. That code, running in neat little lines all across the screen, must be Eve’s base code. It looks complicated, densely packed with information, nothing an amateur would be able to do. Is it even possible? Could there be a program that could disguise itself as another and infiltrate any security system that way? Barbara has never heard of anything like it. Is he telling the truth? Or is it a lying once again?

“I’m asking you again… what do you need my help for?” Barbara asks. She manages to calm herself, at least enough to let the gun sink into her lap once more. For now, Jason seems to pose no threat and whatever Eve is and means to her, she can’t yet comprehend. But if it is true that Jason possesses a program capable of hacking any kind of security system, what does he need her help for? Anything Barbara is able to do, such a program could do better. 

Jason eyes the gun in her hands carefully. He holds himself with caution. “I need you to help me find him. And Dick.” There’s a strain in his voice, as he says Dick’s name. “He… must have gotten to him. Eve hacked all their trackers and when I realized that his had stopped moving-” Jason hisses deeply. She can see a new tremor in his arms and shoulders. There’s fear and pain and rage bundled up inside him. Barbara has seen him look like that before, every time he had to face the Joker in the past years.

She shares that fear, that lingering doubt of hope and the persistent little voice that keeps whispering _what if he’s dead_ , but she pushes these feelings down, as far as they can go and locks them up inside of her for as long as she can manage. It might last minutes, or merely seconds, before she has to do it again. But she does, every time anew, to stay focused, to stay calm. She’ll find him, she’ll help him. She has to.

“I got out of the cage and made sure the others stayed there.” With another hiss, Jason turns back to the computer screens. “I also made sure Steph and Cass stay in Europe. Luckily, Damian is unavailable as well.” He starts typing on the keyboard.

Barbara watches him, his body nearly completely obscured by the cape around his shoulders. Bruce has the same arch to his spine, when he works on the computer in the cave, the same tension in his shoulders and neck, when he’s worried and frantic, but trying to hide it for the sake of others.

“He will target the family, anyone that had a personal connection with me. By now he must have gained access to one of our networks, either through the Clocktower or Wayne Enterprise. He’ll have all available information on us, so we need to stay away from our safe houses and any other property used under our real names or codenames.” Jason continues typing, as a new map of Gotham appears on one of the screens. Eve is still watching her, but remains unmoving otherwise.

“I need you to stay here and gather all information on a possible second Bruce Wayne in Gotham. Has he been sighted anywhere? Where has he gone and who has he met with?”

Several locations blink on the screen, marked on the map in bright red. Some Barbara recognizes instantly, like Wayne manor, the Clocktower and GCPD. It also shows several or their currently active warehouses. Other locations are unfamiliar. One point is marked in bright blue. Dick’s last location.

“I’ll check Dick’s last known position.” Jason stops typing. Slowly he raises himself to his full height. For a few seconds, he lets his head roll from his left to his right shoulder. Barbara can hear the bones crack and creak with the movement. He turns around towards her. There’s a dark fire in his eyes, a new conviction and motivation. With his left hand, he grabs the cowl from the table and puts it on. The lenses flash brightly in the dark lit room. “I’ll find that bastard and rip his heart from his chest with my bare hands if I have to.” Without another word he turns and walks towards the exit. “Contact me, if you find anything.”

Barbara stares ahead at the setup. A new window has popped up beneath the map of Gotham. It shows the inside of the warehouse, the exit door swinging open as Jason walks through it. He has opened up a video feet, showing her everything that he sees. Barbara watches him approach the Batmobile, hop in and drive off.

Will she help? Does she want to? And more importantly, does she even believe him? Is he telling her the truth? And even if he is, has he told her everything or is he still omitting details?  
What does this other Bruce Wayne want? Why does Jason so obviously despise him, that he even wishes to kill him? What makes Jason so scared of him? He’s obviously still keeping her in the dark and it makes her nervous, settles in her stomach as an uncomfortable heavy weight. Knowledge means power, in any situation. If she doesn’t know all details, she can’t prepare adequately. 

She catches Eve staring at her. “What?” she snaps. It still unnerves her, looking into her own face like this.

“ _What information would you like me to show you?_ ” the artificial voice asks calmly.

Her fingers itch. She’ll stay alert, suspicious, but for now Jason is gone and has left her in charge of his home base. That’s something she can work with. His story doesn’t sound too unbelievable, given the last day, it could be true. And if it is, he does need her help. If they are up against Bruce Wayne and if he’s anything like their own, he’ll be nearly impossible to track and even harder to outsmart. 

With her mind made up and focused on the task, Barbara takes her place in front of the computer screens. She places the gun on the far side of the table, glad to be rid of it. As she starts typing, trying to connect to the Clocktower network, she starts processing the information and connecting her new information.

If their Bruce was thrown into a new reality, he would gather information first. As much as he possibly could. First about the reality itself, where it differed from his own. And where it matched. So he could exploit that.

“Eve-” she addresses the program, nearly stutters as she does so. This is weird, definitely, more than weird. “What information do you have on this other Bruce Wayne?” Nearly instantly a list pops up on a screen on her left. 

Bruce Wayne. Currently 7 years younger than their Bruce. Parents murdered by a robber when he was eight. Never became Batman, but a vigilante by the name Dark Knight at age 22 (the name was given by newspapers and broadcasting stations, never confirmed by him). Never adopted Dick Grayson, but adopted Jason Peter Todd when he was 30 and Jason 12. Had a sidekick named Robin (named so by a reporter, who remarked that the red/black/gray costume of the young boy reminded him of the bird), never confirmed to be what he actually called himself. Robin was killed by the Joker at age 15. The Joker then was killed by the Dark Knight barely 6 months later. Other villains met the same fate, if they dealt with the Dark Knight. 

His world holds no magic or other divine or celestial power. No Superman, no Wonder Woman, no technology like Cyborgs, no Speedsters, no Aliens. No Justice League or anything similar. He’s a lone wolf. No Alfred Pennyworth, he had died just 2 years after Thomas and Martha Wayne. Cause of death: heart attack. Apart from his son, no other known family or friends. Became an emancipated minor at age 16. Trained like their own Bruce from that age on. Very versatile when it comes to martial arts and weapon handling. Dangerous.

The list stops there. It’s a lot of information, but overall it seems sparse. No indication on why this Bruce Wayne is after Jason. And how would he be able to hop from one reality to another, if his own had less advanced technology than this one and no magic to use instead?

“Why is he after Jason?” she asks. Maybe Eve knows why.

The face doesn’t answer immediately, it nearly feels as if it hesitates. “ _I don’t know. But…_ ” it makes a short pause. Barbara narrows her eyes, puzzled. “ _He came to our reality, the one of the Barbara who created me, looking for our world’s Jason Todd._ ” Another pause. “ _And when he found him, he killed him._ ”


	14. Chapter 14

It feels like coming out of a dream, ever so slowly that you don’t realize you’re awake yet. It’s still dark around Dick and his limbs are heavy, his mind clouded by faded images he can’t seem to recall. Where is he? How did he end up here? He’s probably at home, tucked into his bed under the dark blue linen blanket Alfred got him for his birthday last year. But why is he so cold then? And should he even be at his apartment? Hadn’t he stayed at the manor most nights during the last 2 months? Logically, he should be at the manor then. But the manor smells like burned bricks and dusty wood. This place doesn’t.

There’s actually no real smell to the place around him. It’s fresh but heavy and yet crisp like a winter morning. But it is currently summer in Gotham and the air in such a big city is anything but fresh this time of the year. He still can’t see anything. Not because his eyes are closed but there’s a dark veil obscuring his vision. He can feel himself blink, as well as the feather light touch of his lashes against his skin, when he closes his eyes. Okay, that can’t be normal.

There’s a beginning sense of dread growing inside of him. Think! What did he do? What is the last thing he can remember? He was in Gotham, he was with Bruce and Tim at the manor. He laughed with Alfred about something. And then? Did he leave the manor? Why? What for? Where did he go? Did he meet up with someone? 

His vision isn’t entirely black, there are little specks of light floating above him and gray shadows passing him by. There’s a weird background noise overlapping everything, a constant buzzing that rises in volume and decreases again in rhythmic intervals. Dick knows that sound. Had he been caught in an explosion recently? Must have been not too long ago, given how strong the buzzing still is.

That might explain why he can’t remember anything. He must have hit his head somewhere. All the rest of his body hurts as well, a deep ache that’s spreading inside of him right down to his bones. Whatever happened to his limbs can’t be good either. Because as soon as he tries to sit up (it feels like he’s lying down, but he can’t be sure, nothing feels vertical and there is no real pressure on his back or sides), he finds that he can’t move a single muscle in his arms or legs. 

Quickly he forces down the fear that starts spreading in his guts. Slowly he counts to 20, imagines a speck of color with every number, then starts all over again from the beginning. 1 yellow, 2 lilac, 3 azure, 4 moss, 5 ivory…

Suddenly there’s something on his face. Warm and soft. Gentle even. He feels it against his eyelashes and then move over his lips slowly. 

_Hey._

Was that a sound? Did someone speak to him? The loud buzzing in his ears nearly drowns out everything else. He can’t answer. Maybe his lips are moving, maybe they aren’t. But if he focuses enough, blocks his mind from acknowledging the constant buzzing in his ears, he can at least hear more sounds around him. The electric buzzing of a computer or other technical device, the glass of windows vibrating, rustling of papers and fabric.

“ _He’s pretty cute, right? Just your luck that I was about to leave anyway~_ ” A laugh. Definitely a male voice. Somewhere to his right. Several steps away, at least. 

The light touch on his face is back. Someone must have put their palm against his forehead. “ _Gross._ ” Female voice, close to his left ear. She’s either standing or sitting right beside him. “ _Stop grinning like a fool, makes you look creepy._ ”

Another laugh. It sounds cheerful, a jest. “ _Can’t fool me, sis, even if you act all grumpy and moody._ ”

“ _Stop being a useless jerk and help me move him. I think he’s waking up._ ”

Dick groans, as he’s lifted and moved from his position. His limbs are useless, he tries to grab unto something, hold on, to no avail. The specks of light occupying his vision blur and stretch, they begin to move and swirl in front of him. He feels nausea fill up his stomach. Something is pressed over his eyes, a cloth or other sort of fabric. Now even the little specks of light are gone from his vision. He groans again, tries to form words, something at least, but it sounds incomprehensible even to his own ears.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you.” The female voice is clearer now. It’s soft, calm. “You need to keep your eyes closed, they take the longest to recover. Your voice will come back shortly and you’ll be able to move your arms and legs again. Lie still for a bit longer and then I’ll take the blindfold off, okay?”

He’s in no position to object, even if he wanted to. At least he isn’t bound. He didn’t hear her open any straps or cuffs and she could shift him easily into a new position. Is he sitting upright now? Probably. There’s a throbbing pain at the back of his head he hadn’t felt before.   
But he still has no idea where he is. And who is that person talking to him? She sounds vaguely familiar, even with the deep buzzing overlaying her words. And the other person? He doesn’t sound familiar, but both of them must be close. Family or close friends, at least. His voice sounded casual while talking to her and his laugh genuine. 

They are both talking to each other again, but Dick can’t manage to concentrate on the conversation. The headache just keeps getting stronger, there’s pain everywhere inside his skull now and even though his eyes are covered by a piece of fabric, there’s light dancing in the darkness around him. Flashes of bright white color, tiny explosions all around him. He groans in pain.

Immediately the woman turns her attention back towards him. “The pain will stop soon as well. I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do to help.” She actually sounds sorry. “He send you here before the drugs wore off, it’s remarkable that you are awake already.”

Drugs? What drugs? Dick is stunned for a moment. What has happened to him? Did Scarecrow get to him? Drugs are usually his thing. Or did someone target him as Dick Grayson, son of Bruce Wayne? It has happened before, but by low profile thugs and not professionals. He’s never been caught this unaware before that he can’t remember what got him into the situation in the first place.

“Dr’gs?” Dick manages to mutter. It takes a lot from him, concentration and effort, to force himself to ignore the pain and focus on the woman at his side, forming the correct words. “What happ’nd?” 

He can’t tell, if he is in civilian clothes or wearing his Nightwing suit. It’s definitely fabric, but nothing he can recognize from it rubbing against his skin. He’s definitely not wearing his mask, he can tell. There are very few people in Gotham or in the surrounding area who don’t know who he is. Still, he shouldn’t assume that they figured out his identity (in case he is wearing his suit, just not the mask).

The hand moves back over his forehead. It feels colder than his own skin. He might be running a fever. 

“You were drugged. A very potent mixture of phencyclidine, dimethyltryptamine and a few other hallucinogens. They mess with your memory and change your perception of things around you.”

That does indeed sound bad. Both phencyclidine and dimethyltryptamine alone are dangerous substances, if administered in a too high dose. That could explain his headache and the overall pain of his body. And why his memory is a mess. He can’t even remember what date today is. It also explains why her hands are cold. His body is trying to burn the substances in his bloodstream and exhausting itself in the process. And while his body is using all its energy on that problem, his muscles remain too exhausted to move. Not good.

Whoever these people are, if they mean him any harm, he has no way to defend himself, for who knows how long his body needs to recover. If they wanted, they could add more phencyclidine or dimethyltryptamine to keep the concentration in his blood high enough to keep him immobile. Or until he faints, whatever happened first.

“Hey sis, I should get going, you’ll be okay on your own?” the male voice inquires. The voice is now closer, but Dick can’t tell if the other came closer or is he’s just concentrating better on his words. 

“Be careful, okay? Don’t make me come after you too.” She sounds worried, masking her anxiety with a humorous huff at the end of her sentence. Wherever the other is going, he might not come back. Her voice quivered ever so slightly as she spoke. 

He laughs as response. “Will be. And you take care of yourself and little Richard here, or I’ll have to come rescue you.”

“You wish.”

There’s the metallic clank of a reloading gun, followed by fading steps, as the other leaves. Okay, they know his name. And they seem to be armed. At least the brother has a gun. And not a small one, going by the sound of it. Worst case, it’s an AR-15 or a similar style weapon. The Penguin has started trading in newly developed semi-automatic rifles recently. A few shipments have managed to hit Gotham before he or Bruce could stop them. Some thugs have already gotten their hands on them, this might be one of these cases. 

To Dick this seems more and more like a kidnapping scenario. He had been drugged and moved here and is now held in an unknown location. They might have contacted Bruce already, to get the details of the ransom figured out. Might be a scenario 3 or even 4, depending on how many people are involved and how professional they are. At the very least, he should get her to talk to him, maybe find out some more details on where he is and what they want from him.

“Where are w’?” his mouth is still rather unwilling to cooperate, but Dick manages to get out the sentence clearly and without much pause. Seems like the drugs are wearing off, at least a little. He’ll pretend a bit longer to be under influence then, to keep his advantage.

Dick hears her move around and step up close towards him. “In Gotham.” She sounds nonchalant, unfocused on him. She’s using her fingers against something, probably tapping against a computer or phone screen. Her nails slightly scratch against glass now and then; he can hear the sound of it. “Okay… seems like your temperature has dropped enough. How’s your head? Do you have any other pain?” She grabs his right arm and lifts it. It hurts, but it’s more of a dull throbbing than sharp pain. “Can you make a fist?”

He tries and it works. His muscles don’t feel as mushy anymore, but he won’t give too much away. Just enough to seem like he’s getting better. Dick feels the strength in his fingers, he could probably lift his arm himself now, but refrains from doing so and instead lets it hang in her grasp. She rotates his arm a little to both sides and then places it down again.

“I think your eyes should be okay now.” She says, after a few moments of silence. “Don’t try to blink too hastily, okay? Or you’ll get dizzy.”

Dick feels her fingers reach over the cloth covering his eyes and gently remove it. She’s being extra careful and he appreciates the gesture, even if it’s just pretend concern. After the fabric is gone, he keeps his eyes closed for a bit longer, then slowly opens one eye, to check how it feels. First, the world is only a big blob of gray light. There are vague shapes and forms around him, but nothing he recognizes. Some of the shapes move slightly. He tries the other eye. Same thing there.

He blinks, reminds himself to do it slowly. Surprisingly, it helps. The shapes from clearer edges, he can actually recognize the shape of a person, among other things. There’s definitely a bright lamp at his right, its light aimed towards the floor. Slightly above him is a window or a computer screen. Little specks of color flutter across it. But enough of the environment. First he needs to identify the woman who’s with him and check for other individuals in the room.

She has red hair. Might be dyed, it’s really bright across the white walls around him. She’s wearing blue clothes, a mix of dark and light colors. And definitely glasses. Everything too close to him is still too blurry to properly recognize. Her face remains a swirl of colors and shapeless features, but the room behind her takes on a clearer form.

He’s not in a warehouse or an industrial building, from the looks of it. The floor and walls are white, some areas tinted with more gray. There are computer screens on either side of the room, a big window on a third wall, though he can’t see what’s outside. There’s definitely light coming from behind the glass, but he can’t hear any sounds he normally would in a city. No cars, no billboards, no talking people walking by on a crosswalk. Weird, Gotham is definitely louder than this. And only a few selected buildings are soundproof enough to drown everything from the city around them.

The far right corner across from him is dark. There are black patches mixed with white and gray. And a lot of red. A shape is huddled into the corner, slumped over and covered in red and black. It’s a person, no doubt about it. Shot by a gun, big enough caliber to spray blood all over the white wall behind the body. 

“So, Richard John Grayson-” she addresses him with his full name and a note of familiarity, as if they’ve known each other for years. “I don’t know why exactly you are here, but my guess is… you had a run in with the person I’m looking for.” She moves across from him, to his other side, checks his left arm. “Can you tell me what happened to Jason Todd?”

Dick blinks slowly, tries to appear unfazed. What does she know about Jason? More importantly, how does she know there still is a Jason Todd? If she recognized him (she must have, if she knows his name, because he rarely carries any sort of ID with him, both civilian and night-job related times), she knows who their father is and the official report on what has happened to Jason. If she knows that he is still alive (hopefully, an annoying little whisper manifests in his mind), Dick definitely should be more worried about his situation. It’s starting to feel like a scenario 6 and that Nightwing or the Batclan are her actual targets. And wherever they brought him, it is not their base and they hav already killed to get here.

His breath is starting to pick up. He forces it down again, counts inside his mind a few more times to remain calm. First chance he gets, he needs to gain the upper hand on her. As he wiggles his toes, he feels the muscles in his legs tighten with returning strength. Okay, his muscles should be rested enough to emit enough force and knock her out. Just a bit more patience, he needs to wait for an opening, because from the looks of it, he won’t get a second chance.

As he still remains silent after several moments, she continues. “Only two possible options… either he is already dead or missing. But if he were dead, Bruce wouldn’t have sent you here but killed you as well instead.” She curses quietly under her breath. Then she grips his left arm with more force and rolls up the fabric of his sleeve. “This might sting a bit-”

Screw patience, if it’s another needle there’ll be no second chance. With as much force as he can manage, Dick pushes himself up with his free hand, bangs his head against hers and uses his legs to launch himself against her body. There’s no finesse in his attack, but enough force to knock her over and both of them crash to the ground. The impact knocks the breath out of Dick’s lungs, his vision blurs into a dark spinning vortex. They both groan, a metal tray tumbles over and lands beside them.

Dick can’t move. He has landed on top of her, his left arm trapped beneath his own chest. Everything inside his skull burns with pain.

With another groan, the body beneath his starts moving. “Damn-” she curses. Apparently he hadn’t hit her hard enough. “You definitely are a Richie Grayson… should have expected that.” She pushes him off. But instead of a punch to the jaw, she flicks her finger against his forehead. 

What? Why? Isn’t she going to punch him? Jam a needle or another sharp object into his neck? And Richie Grayson, what’s going on with that?

His limbs won’t cooperate again, but he manages to roll over unto his back, before his strength gives out again. 

“Hope you didn’t hurt yourself by being so reckless.” she mutters and crawls over to him, hauls his body up and leans him back against some sort of metal pole, so he can sit upright. 

At least his vision is improving more rapidly. The swirls of colors disappear and the room takes shape again. And finally the woman in front of him becomes more than a vaguely human shaped entity. Dick blinks, unsure of what he is seeing. Then blinks again. Again. Again. But the picture in front of him doesn’t change.

Her face is still a bit blurry, the edges not as sharp as they should be, but he can now recognize her features, the color of her eyes and the rectangular frames of her glasses. Her hair is short, shorter than his own, but it should be long. And not such a deep red. No, that’s not how he remembers it. He draws his eyebrows together as he watches her get back up on her feet and pat down her clothes, a blue leather-like suit, much like Batman’s body armor. No, that’s not how he remembers it at all. No. No way.

She takes two steps to the side, slightly swaying as she does so, and pushes back her fringe. As their eyes meet and she catches how Dick gapes at her, she smiles. “So… I guess I don’t look much like your Barbara Gordon? Well, you don’t look like my Richie either…” she chuckles. “Anyway, nice to meet you, Richard Grayson.” not-his-Barbara jokes, one of her hands outstretched down towards him as if offering a friendly handshake. “Welcome to inter-dimensional travel.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't take the science talk in this chapter too seriously! I like to imagine that this is how different realities work in this story (in reality it surely doesn't, but bless fiction and its liberties~)  
> Enjoy!

It’s an unexpected turn of events, Dick has to admit that. Not totally improbable, but rather unwelcome. Now he’s here, without any idea how he got here in the first place. Or how to leave again, for that matter. Barbara has helped him back up on the cot he lay on earlier. At least the can move his muscles again, but every fiber of his body is exhausted and aches. He refuses to lie down, but he can lean back against the soft cushions behind him. It’s a comfortable compromise. 

This other Barbara resembles his own in many ways. How she turns her head from left to right, when she stares at the little screen in her hands, deep in thought about something. Or how she flicks back her hair (it must have been a lot longer just recently, she hasn’t stopped that habit yet, even though her hair’s too short now to flip around). But she is not his Barbara and this isn’t where he should be, he knows that. Or at least thinks he does. His memory is still messed up, too many pictures too strewn around in his mind to make any sense.

“This is not your reality.” She tells him without looking at him. She taps the screen a few more times and the light in the room dims slightly. 

Dick feels his eyes adjust to the new brightness a lot better. The edges of his vision are still blurred and unfocused, but if he concentrates, he can make out more and more details. 

The corpse is still lying in the corner. But now he can recognize the signs of a fight around it. And on Barbara. There’s blood on her left arm, splattered on her light blue sleeve. It’s not hers, the direction and length of the bloody marks indicate that it was splattered there from her front, the source some distance away. The jacket of the dead man lying on the ground is torn at the right shoulder. Dick would have targeted him from behind, if he had a gun and immobilize his gun arm by either yanking his shoulder out of its socket or twisting it unto his back. Done hard enough, his shirt would have ripped the same way then.

He must have put up a good fight. When Barbara moves her head to the side, her collar stretches and shows a bruise down her neck. It’s nearly as big as the inside of his palm, purple and blue right in the middle and fading out in a lighter circle. She must have been hit with something pointy yet blunt, not too sharp or it would have broken through her skin. Probably an elbow. 

“Then… is it yours?” he asks, quite puzzled.

Different realities are accessible, given the right technology or powers. Dick possesses neither, so how did he end up here? And hadn’t Barbara mentioned that he had been sent by someone? Wait, hadn’t she said Bruce had sent him here? Bruce Wayne, as in Batman or someone else, just coincidently carrying the same name?

She shakes her head, then lowers her arms, places the device on a nearby rack. “Not mine either. Bruce Wayne’s, the one who sent you here. Not your own, but someone else entirely.” There’s a syringe on the stand. She reaches for it, holds it up for Dick to see. “This is a mixture of vitamins and various proteins. They’ll help get rid of the remaining dimethyltryptamine and jog your memory, so you might remember what happened before you landed here.”

Dick doesn’t answer, just eyes the syringe wordlessly. No way he’s going to let her do that.

Barbara catches his look and laughs. “Okay, I get it. I’ll keep my hands off the syringe and you can stop mentally preparing for another fight.” Slowly she puts the syringe down again and takes a few steps back. It does make Dick feel a bit more relaxed. “So, what kind of vigilante are you? Or are you more on the villainy side of things?”

With a frown Dick looks first at her, then down at himself. Ah, right. He is wearing his Nightwing suit, he hadn’t noticed before. “I prefer punching bad guys.” He checks for her reaction. Nothing, her face remains unmoving.

“And what should I call you? I’d prefer Richie, that’s what I call my brother, but I could do Richard as well. Then again… something tells me you won’t prefer your full name.” Barbara steps towards the other side of the cot Dick is lying on. There’s a tiny drop of blood beneath her nose and she uses a paper towel to clean it. 

For a moment Dick feels a little guilty. Then he remembers where he is, what has happened and that he still can’t trust this other Barbara, no matter how docile and friendly she acts now. He needs to keep his guards up. But he can still play along a little longer, try to find out a bit more about this world, why he is here and what this Barbara plans to do with him. Maybe she knows where their Jason is? 

His mind is still a bit fuzzy, it’s hard to coordinate his thoughts, string together a more comprehensive analysis of his situation. Dick is usually sharper than this, better at piercing together bits, pieces and hints, but currently that seems impossible. It takes a moment before he realizes that Barbara’s brother’s name must be Richard as well, if she calls him Richie. Could it be… that _he_ is Barbara’s brother? Or rather, this other version of him?

“Dick.”

“What?” she blinks at him.

He smiles faintly as he answers. “My name. Call me Dick.”

“Wow.” Barbara has to laugh as well. “That’s pretty old-fashioned nickname. Makes you sound like a grandfather.”

Yeah, it kind of does. His dad used to make that joke as well, even though he had been the one to choose the nickname for Dick as a young child. Maybe his grandfather’s name had been Richard as well. Dick likes to imagine that it’s true, that he carries that part of his family with him. No matter what has happened in the past, that way he’ll always be connected to his family and maybe even ancestors.

It’s more than morbid curiosity that let’s him imagine what could have happened to this Dick Grayson’s family. Is he Barbara’s biological brother? Was he adopted by her parents? Why? Did his own parents die? And if they did, how? Was his childhood similar to Dick’s? 

Barbara seems to sense his restlessness. She steps up towards the cot and leans against the end of it, as far away from Dick as she can, to give him his space. “It’s weird, hm?” she turns her head towards him. Her eyes are cast in shadow, the bright light is right above her head and the shadows on her face obscure her features. “To know that there are countless other versions of yourself running around different realities. Makes you wonder, how could your story have been different?”

Even if he wanted to, Dick can’t answer her. The thought of his parents still alive lies heavy inside his mind. What would he do if he met them? How would he react? Wouldn’t it be weird, after such a long time? He has spent more time with Bruce as his father figure than with his actual father. 

“It’s better not to dwell on it. I’ve seen what it does to people.” Barbara interrupts his thoughts. Her tone is colder now, guarded. Every word has a sharp edge to it, a suppressed emotion.

Dick tries to ignore the whispers in his mind. There are other things he should focus on. “How did I get here?” he asks instead. His mind still feels clogged with fog and clouds, but at least if he knows how he got here, he can figure out how to leave as well.

Barbara remains silent for a few moments. She watches him, but her eyes don’t focus on his. She seems lost in thought as well. “Different realities work like light spectrum does.” Slowly she pushes back from the cot and walks over to the little monitor she had placed across from Dick earlier. She starts tapping on the screen. “Different colors of light have different wavelengths and different energy levels. They appear white when overlapped, but they don’t mix. You can easily separate them again with a prism.”

She gestures around the room. “Let’s say this reality is green, I am blue and you are red. Usually we exists side by side, we overlap with countless other realities as well. You could call that universe.”

Her explanation sounds similar to what Bruce had told him of different realities and what happened to the Flash as he moved through them. But if his body operates on the wrong wave length and energy, how is it possible for him to be here?  
He crosses his arms over his chest. “How can we be here then? If we operate on different parameters.”

“I figured out how to change that.” Barbara smiles, proud and cheeky. She seems younger than their own Barbara, maybe about 5 or 7 years. “I created a device that temporarily changes the wavelength and energy level of our cells. That way we can adjust to any other reality we come across and visit them as we please. As long as I have a sample, I can recreate the parameters easily.”

The only question left is what kind of device she’s talking about. What does it look like? Where does she keep it? How can Dick get his hands on it? And what happens if his cells change back? She did say the change was only temporary. 

“Your face gives away too much of your thoughts.” Barbara says, turns her back towards him. “Yes, the change is only temporary and your cells will turn back to their original state over time. But not all together, instead they’ll do it one by one. And while part of you remains anchored to the new reality, the rest will be pulled back to its original home. And in the process, you will fall apart, atom by atom, until your lungs collapse, your inner organs fail and you die.” She looks back over her shoulder. “But if you stick with me, I’ll prevent that from happening. My device can readjust your cells as often as necessary, to keep you in one piece. No need to worry.”

That prospect sounds quite horrible. And her words do nothing to reassure him. If her words are true, Dick is indeed stuck with her. Unless he figures out how to get home on his own. But without more knowledge about the device she spoke of and how to use it, he wouldn’t dare try anything. It could go horribly wrong. And he’d like to keep his atoms intact a bit longer.

“What kind of device is it?”

She chuckles. “Sorry, but unless I’m sure I can trust you, I won’t go into detail. I bet you share the sentiment, am I right?”

Dick forces himself to smile. Well, it was worth a try. This Barbara seems chatty, happy to pass on her story to someone and if Dick plays his cards right, it might be him. But how can he approach her? Is she vain? Would asking about her device and acknowledging her achievement get him anywhere? Would flirting help? If she found him attractive enough it could work. But that could also backfire, if she does not consider him attractive or if she isn’t interested in guys in general.

He keeps watching her, her back slightly turned towards him, as she taps away in the screen in her hands. “You got me. But it was worth a try.” Maybe playing along will be the best option. Make her think she has him figured out. Many people tend to underestimate him, see him just as a pretty airhead. And often enough playing that part has worked out for him.

“So…” he huffs a little, playing bored. “Is there anything else I need to know? Rules I have to follow or something like that?”

She turns back towards him. Her eyes are still glued to the screen. She’s about to answer him but then stops. Even her fingers remain unmoving on the glass. It passes just a moment later as she catches herself. Their eyes meet briefly. What happened? Was there something on the screen that made her worry? Lines have appeared on her forehead, she’s frowning but trying to suppress it. 

“There is indeed something you should know…” Barbara mutters. She doesn’t look at him directly, but hands him the monitor without hesitation.

Dick grabs it, only a tiny bit hesitant. There’s a chart on the screen. Several columns are filled with numbers and letters, weird combinations that make no sense, at a first glance. His name is in the top left corner. And right beside it a red colored box with blinking letters. _prime one suspect - DNA sequence - match confirmed_  
That doesn’t make sense. He’s about to ask Barbara about it, when his eyes dart across the screen once more and finally some of the letters seem familiar. The first column shows a big E, that must indicate some form of energy level. And THz shows the frequency of the visible spectrum of light, if he remembers correctly. This Barbara must have tested his cells for their original frequency and energy, to match it to something. Or someone. And it apparently does.

There’s no other possibility, she must have compared it with a sample from their Jason. Where else would she haven gotten one from his reality if not from him? All the time he has been gone, has he been here then? With her?

He wants to ask her about it, needs to know if Jason is here or not. As he looks up, she’s gone from his line of vision. “What-” is the only word he can get out before something sharp gets jammed into the side of his neck. By instinct alone, he jumps forward, grabs whatever pierced him with one hand and throws it away. He manages to land on his knees and not fall over, right beside the cot he had been sitting on before. But whatever it was, it got him.

Barbara stands behind the cot, part of a syringe still held tightly in her grasp. Her eyes are focused on him and bright in the harsh light from above. “Sorry, but I can’t risk you leaving again.” Her voice quivers slightly, the rest of her muscles tense. 

Whatever substance she injected is already working. Dick feels his vision blur around the edges once more, his head starts spinning. He tries to grab the cot, pull himself up, but his grip misses completely. His muscles tense, everything burns. He falls to the floor, can’t support his weight anymore. His stomach rumbles. Pain, sharp pain, runs through his veins, down his neck into his chest. He hears himself groan, but the sound is muffled, far away.

He can feel arms beneath his shoulders, someone lifting him up. Then he’s lying flat again. He can’t see the lamp above him but the light burns his eyes and skin. Damn, he should have been more careful. 

It’s a tough fight, to keep his mind awake. He’s so tired, so exhausted all of a sudden. But there are voices around him, he can’t sleep now, he has to listen, has to stay awake. A minute passes, maybe ten, maybe even an hour, he doesn’t know. Time stretches and squashes around him like waves on a shore.

“ _Are you sure? What if he ended up here by accident? It has happened before._ ”

“ _Never one that matched. This is the best lead we’ve ever had, we can’t let it pass._ ”

“ _You want me to go?_ ”

“ _Yes. If you find Jason, stick to the plan. I’ll prepare everything here._ ”

“ _Have you… found JJ yet? I might be back again soon._ ”

“ _No… I’m sorry. I’m close, I know it. Everything will be ready, when you get back, don’t worry._ ”

“ _And if I run into-_ ”

“ _You stick to the plan, don’t screw up our chance. If all fails, come back. I won’t lose you too. You got your chip?_ ”

“ _Yeah. I’m ready. He’ll be alright?_ ”

“ _I’ll make sure he doesn’t get hurt, I promise. Just… be safe, okay?_ ”

“ _I trained for this, don’t worry, I’ll be back before you know it~_ ”

There is more to the conversation, but the words fade out, mix together and Dick can’t understand anything anymore. And after a while, he’s only left with silence.


	16. Chapter 16

Tim helps Alfred pull himself up the last few inches from the elevator shaft. It took Bruce nearly 2 hours to break through the metal doors of the shaft and then stabilize it enough for them to climb up, but he managed and here they are. The sun has started to rise already. Warm yellow light streams in from the windows and casts long shadows unto the walls.

It seems like the manor wasn’t damaged by the explosion in the cave. A few items have fallen over or dropped down to the floor, but there are no cracks in the walls or ceilings. That doesn’t mean that the building remains stable though. If the cave ceiling crumbles, the manor will as well.

Bruce makes his way through the corridors, heading upstairs. Tim and Alfred have no choice but to follow him. He has been quiet since Jason’s threat, has only barked some orders at them when they started climbing. Now he’s silent once more. 

They are tense, all of them. Tim can feel Alfred’s anxiety over the current situation. He’s nearly as quiet as Bruce, but often enough he nudges Tim’s elbow when they’re walking side by side or tells him to mind his step and not stumble over a fallen vase on the floor. Alfred seems to be looking for contact, for communication, especially with Tim. Because they both know Bruce is off limits for now. One wrong move or word and the other will snap with worry. Neither he nor Alfred want that.

They first need a plan. How to get to Jason and get back Dick before he gets hurt. If he isn’t already, but Tim refuses to entertain the thought of that possibility. No, Dick is alright. For sure. He’s more valuable to that whatever-Jason when he’s alive and unhurt. And if anything, this Jason isn’t dumb.

Bruce makes his way up the stairs, the sound of his heavy boots echoes in the hall. He’ll probably check his office, see if he can establish a connection to the Clocktower and operate on its system from there.

“I will get some water and meet you upstairs.” Alfred announces and walks towards the kitchen and storage behind it. They had been stuck in the cave for hours, water indeed seems like a good idea.

Tim watches Alfred leave, concern etched on his face, and then he hurries after Bruce. When they reach the office, the door is slightly open. That happens sometimes, one of them forgets to close it when they leave or one of the pets tackles the door open, but this time Tim is sure that he was the last one to use the office. And that he had closed the door.

Bruce hesitates as well before he enters. Someone definitely has been here then. Jason? Most likely.

“Should I get someth-” Tim starts asking, as Bruce pushes open the door completely.

“No.” Bruce interrupts him. “Check for any traces and clues that might help us. I’ll set up the computer.” Carefully Bruce moves inside the office, steps over a few spilled pens and books that have fallen from a shelf, until he reaches his desk.

Tim follows his steps until he reaches the first shelf, then turns left towards the middle of the room. There are no notable footprints on the floor, no dirt that was carried into the room. The rugs are still placed exactly where they should be. They’d notice if they were because it would show slightly discolored wood underneath. The imprints of the furniture on the rugs are as they should be, there are no other dents, which means nothing has been moved. Tim walks over to the window. It is locked, there are no marks on the frame or the glass. No fingerprints. Whoever came in did so through the door and left that same way.

He checks the shelves on either sides of the room. Some books and other decorations have fallen to the floor. The other items on the shelves appear untouched, everything is placed where it should be. The books are still in order and no pictures or stationary have been moved to a different location.

What could Jason have wanted here? Maybe he used the computer for something specific. Tim walks over to the desk. Bruce is already typing on the keyboard, the screen of the computer flashes with white letters and numbers. The Batcomputer hosted their main network, connected everything. The Clocktower’s computer can substitute, at least for a while, but it takes time to reconnect all systems and their database won’t be as extensive. They also can’t access the Justice League archives and files like this. 

“I can’t find anything suspicious.” Tim sighs and leans against the desk. “He took nothing, nor left any traces.”

“He used the computer.” Bruce grunts as response. “The initial system password was changed. But it seems he did it in a hurry, the override cycle didn’t finish completely, it only overrode the password 3 times. I could trace the changes back easily.”

What did Jason seek here? Did he need information? Or did he just want to put them at a disadvantage for something he has planned? It doesn’t make much sense yet, maybe Bruce can find out what data he took from the computer or what he looked up there.

A few minutes pass before Alfred returns with a bottle of water for everyone. He puts Tim’s into his hand and Bruce’s right in front of the computer screen. As expected Bruce grunts and shoves it away, but Alfred silently pushes it back into his line of vision. Bruce grunts again, but takes the bottle and drowns it in one go. Tim takes his time with his own bottle of water. There’s too much on his mind to concentrate on the task.

Where could Dick be? Is Jason just using him as a security line, in case anything goes wrong? Might he want something from him specifically? Why did he let them capture him in the first place? Did he bring anything into the cave they weren’t aware of? Inside his helmet? That’s the only possibility, he was naked apart from that. How did he activate it though? Must have been a timed bomb inside the helmet, because they never let him out of their sight or the quarantine chamber. But how did he hack into their security system? Did he do it while he was inside the cave? Did someone help him from outside? Or had he re-programmed the whole system before they brought him here without them noticing?

“Tim-” Bruce’s voice pulls him from his thoughts. “I found something.”

He puts the now empty bottle down unto the desk and moves to Bruce’s side. The computer screen shows a map of Gotham. Two coordinates are marked on it, one at the harbor, a warehouse, the second one on the other side, west part of Chinatown, a residential area.

“He transferred data to the location at the harbor. And checked the coordinates for Chinatown and downloaded blueprints of the area’s subway system.” Bruce says, stands up straight.

Tim already knows what the other is going to tell him. He’ll ask him to check the location in Chinatown, if he can find anything useful. Bruce will go to the harbor and check the coordinates there. Data transfer means there’s a higher possibility of a complete computer system and in conclusion some sort of base for this not-Jason. He’d be more likely to take Dick there and keep him locked up where he has set up a potential security system. The harbor is an industrial area as well, people are less likely to report something suspicious there; a lot of harbor work is suspicious by nature already. The place in Chinatown seems like a decoy, a distraction set up to keep them busy and away from where they actually should be. 

Tim turns his head towards Bruce. The other is still staring at the computer screen, no doubt already planning an approach to the area, now that he’s out of armored vehicles. Which Jason made sure of and has probably planned for. It’s also just bad luck that they have no spare vehicles left at Wayne Tower, like they usually do, because Bruce had been in the process of adjusting their security system and therefore transferred them all to the cave for easier access. Perfect timing for an attack.

“Chinatown seems like a decoy.” Tim tells Bruce, though he’s sure the other already knows. And will likely sent him there anyway to keep him away from potential, no matter what arguments he brings up against that plan. Doesn’t mean Tim can’t still try to change his mind. “We’d better not split up. There’s still the possibility that he had help from outside and we’re dealing with an organization, not just one individual.”

Bruce turns towards him. Even without the cowl his face is grim, his eyes dark like charcoal. There’s still some blood on his forehead, crusted with dust and dirt. “That’s an order, Tim.” he growls, all Batman and suppressed rage, a string pulled so tight it might snap any second. “Alfred, take over the computer here, I’ve established a new line of communication. I’ll update you.”

Without another word Bruce strides past them. Tim watches him walk away, down the hall and in direction of his bedroom. They all keep a spare set of gadgets and costume there, just in case. Tim turns towards the window. The sun hasn’t peeked out from beneath the horizon yet, but it’ll only be a matter of minutes before it does. This puts them at disadvantage too. Especially Batman is designed for work at night, the costume loses part of its terror in broad daylight. Intimidation doesn’t work as well anymore and it makes it harder to vanish into shadows as well. 

Everything just works out so well for this whatever-the-hell-he-is-Jason and it frightens Tim. He seems always a step ahead, as if he had planned this minute for minute. When to set up the explosion in the cave, to capture Dick and threaten them, how long it would take for them to get out of the cave - just everything.

“I’m going after him.” Tim tells Alfred, though it’s more to reassure himself. Chinatown is a decoy, he’s sure of it. He has to be at the harbor as well, no matter what Bruce tells him. Order or not, this is his family and he’ll be dammed if he does nothing to help them. 

Alfred - god bless him - doesn’t object and only nods. “Very well. Is there anything else you need?”

Tim hesitates a moment. They nearly forgot Barbara in all of this. Hopefully she’s alright. “Try to contact Barbara, see if she has found anything yet. She might be at the Clocktower already, looking for Dick. Let her know we got out of the cave and to inform GCPD of the location at the harbor, in case we need backup.”

From outside they hear the roar of a motorcycle. They both turn towards the window and listen to the sound fade away as the bike leaves the manor. Carefully Alfred places a hand on Tim’s shoulder. The sudden contact makes him jump in surprise. He looks at Alfred’s face, the half lid eyes, the tense line around his mouth. And understands. He has an ally here and as long as Alfred understands they can take on Bruce together, if it comes to it. Because they don’t know what they might find in the city. And how Bruce might react to it.

Tim nods, grabs Alfred’s hand and squeezes it tightly. “I’ll be in contact.” he tells him and leaves the office as well. There are a few things he needs to pack and then he’ll take another bike and follow Bruce down into the city.

 

####

 

If anything, Eve is efficient. Barbara still has no idea how her system works, but it is fast and can handle a lot of data input. She runs the analysis of Jason’s blood sample on it and barely 30 minutes later Barbara already stares at the results on one of the screens. Eve is watching her, her face ever moving around slightly on her screen. 

96.35% probability is way less than Barbara had hoped for. And that number is only reliable if she managed to predict the correct changes in Jason’s cell. If only she had been able to compare it to the Flash’s blood sample, she is sure she could have achieved a better probability. But with numbers like this he might be their Jason. But he might also be someone else.

He hasn’t contacted her yet. She doesn’t know if he found Dick or at least a clue on where he might be. And if he is even doing that in the first place. She had tried to locate the Batmobile using one of the trackers she knows the access code and frequency to, but Eve had denied her that.

“ _I’m sorry._ ” the voice had told her. “ _But I can’t allow that._ ” And then she had shut off the system for a few minutes. Jason made sure she can’t contact anyone outside the warehouse except himself.

Barbara lanes back against the backrest of her chair. Minutes pass, Barbara remains silent, goes over the data of her analysis inside her mind while Eve watches her. Maybe she’ll change the parameters again, run the analysis once more and compare only 2 samples each time and then crosscheck the results once more. Before she can make the changes though, Jason’s voice echoes through the warehouse. 

<”I’ve reached Dick’s last location.”> His voice is rough, the connection not completely clear. There’s a lot of white noise in the background. <”There has been an explosion. Found some of his blood. Not enough for a serious injury though.”>

Barbara let’s out a deep breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “That’s at least something…” she murmurs. 

<”I found containers. Can you check the company logo?”> Jason grunts, seemingly lifting something heavy. A few seconds later a picture appears on one of the screens. It’s a company logo on a large piece of metal. An O with several circles inside of it and an upside down L.

There’s something oddly familiar about the logo, but Barbara can’t place it yet. “Eve, can you run the logo through a database search?” Maybe they have the information somewhere. Was it connected to a case? Why does it seem so familiar?

Eve does as she is told. Her face disappears and instead the search engine of the database of the Clocktower appears on the screen. 

<”Bastard.”> Jason growls through the connection. <”You think yourself so clever… but I’ll get you.”>

He must have forgotten that Barbara is still listening. His voice sounds raw, shaky, as if he can barely force the words out of his mouth. It is personal, deeply so, Barbara can tell. If only she knew what must have happened with this Jason (possibly their Jason and if he is, Barbara is more than ready to beat this Bruce to a pulp if she finds out what he must have done) and that other Bruce Wayne.

Suddenly she remembers where she has seen the logo before. Quickly she starts typing on the keyboard, searches through her recent data files. Just before she had found the warning file Jason had planted into her network in the Clocktower, Barbara had checked the news for any crimes and happenings that might have required caped help. She had seen the logo in a news article about a recent robbery. But hadn’t that been about a medical supplier?

She finds the file quickly. Yes, as she remembered it was a robbery. Someone had broken into a warehouse of a medical supplier and stolen medical equipment meant for hospitals. Cots, syringes and bandages, as well as a bunch of medicine. But where is the connection to the explosion? Had the container from that company just been used to transport the explosives? Unlikely. If another Bruce had done this, he would have done so with a reason.

Barbara puts the company name into the search engine connected to the GCPD database. Maybe there’s more to it than medical supplies. Eve’s face has reappeared on another screen and keeps watching her. It makes Barbara nervous. But she can’t let herself get distracted by it. 

The company name does appear in several reports. Most include the recent robbery, but there are others as well. Employees had filed complains, claiming they weren’t paid their agreed salary and working conditions were violating state law, especially security measures. Barbara cross-references the names of the employees and isn’t too surprised when she finds more reports on them. Some missing person reports, some homicides. The company seemingly got rid of unwanted employees to avoid too much attention from the authorities.

This company definitely has something to hide. And Barbara will find out what exactly. First she looks up the company structure, who owns what and how much. Not surprisingly the company is owned by another company. Which is owned by another company. And it goes on like this until finally Barbara reaches the end of the chain. And the CEO of that last company is Oswald Cobblepot. 

“The company is connected to the Penguin.” Barbara lets Jason know. Weapons of every caliber and type are the Penguin’s niche, explosive included. They know he has depots all over Gotham, hidden behind other company names and descriptions. If you know where to look, you could easily equip an army. Or one Dark Knight, for that matter. “Let me check something…”

One thing the Penguin has done in the past to mask his illegal imports is to use the same import identification numbers for several shipments. One is always a legit business transaction, in this case most likely medical equipment imported into Gotham, followed by a second shipment with the same number but with different items of a more illegal nature. And a little money into the right pockets solves any concern or suspicion that fact might raise.

It’s easy to find out the import papers of the stolen medical equipment. As expected they were all brought into Gotham under the same import number. As was as another shipment only 1 day later. There’s no additional paperwork on the second shipment available, not even a note what the items were exactly, but as Barbara searches through the harbor administration database, she finds the warehouse the second shipment was stored in after its arrival. And maybe even is stored in right now.

“There was a shipment of unspecified cargo done under the company’s name 2 weeks ago. The items were stored in a warehouse in the harbor after their arrival.” She informs Jason of her findings. As far as leads go, this seems promising. She sends Jason the coordinates.

<”Thanks, Barbara, really. I’ll let you know once I’ve arrived there.”> He has barely finished his last word before he cuts off the connection.

Barbara leans back once more. She can only hope that this leads them to Dick. Right now they only know where the explosives most likely came from, not where the one who used them went to. They are going backwards on the chain of events, not forward. She leans back far enough to stare up towards the window in the ceiling. The first rays of light have appeared on the sky. Sunrise is only a short while away. That will make it more difficult for Jason to enter the warehouse without being seen. If it’s day already, then there’ll be more workers in the harbor and on the streets in general. Hiding will be a lot harder too.

This could end badly, if he’s out there without any backup and really does run into a group of Penguin’s thugs protecting their stored merchandise. 

“Eve-” Barbara sits back up straight again. She stares at the screen as her own face stares back. “Let me contact someone to send to the location as well. Jason will probably need backup, this could get pretty dangerous.” Maybe she can appeal to her that way.

Eve stares back and remains silent for several moments. “ _I apologize, but I was instructed to keep you from contacting anyone else. I’m very sorry about that._ ”

Barbara nearly laughs. Sorry, yeah. Probably not. A computer can’t be sorry for what he’s programmed to do. That only means Barbara has to be sneakier about it. She already connected her phone to Eve’s network to transfer the data from her cell experiments; she’ll have to use the emergency virus she stores on all her technical devices to work around her security protocol. It’s a risky move, it could damage all connected software beyond repair, but the best case scenario is that the system reboots and she can reprogram it. And use it to contact Tim again. 

“Okay…” Barbara sighs for emphasize. “If you won’t allow me to do anything else, let’s run the analysis on the blood samples again. I’ll set up new parameters, see if that’ll give me different results.”

Eve doesn’t react as Barbara reaches for her phone and opens the files of the blood samples again. But she hasn’t even started putting in the changes yet, when suddenly a piercing alert signal blares through the warehouse.

“ _Barbara-_ ” Eve’s voice is frantic, shaky. “ _You need to-_ ” Eve stops mid sentence, all computer screens turn black and the light as well as the warning signal cut off immediately. 

Barbara is left in the dark, the inside of the warehouse barely illuminated by the beginning sunrise. She only hears the creaky hinges of an opening door.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for all the support you've given me and this story so far~  
> Due to summer vacations of colleagues I have more work to do, so further updates may take a few weeks - just so you know.
> 
> Be warned, I added a new tag (torture) to the fic. It is not overly described in detail, but it is there. So be careful!

Tim reaches the harbor about 15 minutes after Bruce must have arrived there. Alfred has kept him updated on the other’s position, but for the past 10 minutes his tracker has been shut off and that’s as big as an alarming signal as it could get. As Bruce had done earlier Tim has taken one of the motorbikes from the garage, ripped the license plate off it and raced down into Gotham. The sun has just passed the horizon and the alleys of the city are glittering in yellows and reds. It’s not early enough anymore for the harbor to be empty, the first batch of workers should already be there. In that case Tim needs to be mindful of casualties, in case anything bad happens.

He tries to take as many detours as he safely can, without losing too much time. There are busses on the streets, cars are slowly filling the avenues and the city awakes to a new day. This is not good, definitely not. It must have been part of the plan, to get a bigger number of civilians at the harbor and surrounding areas. Whatever they do now, they’ll have to think of all these people around that could be affected. Another thing that puts them at a disadvantage.

Alfred forwards him the exact location again to where the data from the manor had been transferred to. The best route is across the roofs of the neighboring warehouses, so Tim leaves the bike in an alley behind one of the halls and climbs up the concrete wall towards the top. From up there he can already see several cranes moving at the side of the water, a ship being unloaded swiftly. 

The warehouses are set far enough apart, to leave room between them for cranes and trucks. Tim uses his grappling hook to swing from one to the next, until he reaches the edge of the roof of his destination. The warehouse has no windows, at least not on this side. The roof is compact and flat, no glass anywhere as far as he can tell.

He crouches down and presses a hand firmly against the roof tiles. The scanner of his lenses can’t penetrate the material beneath, it’s either solid concrete or meta. No way can he just cut a hole into the roof without being noticed. “Agent A, is there a subtle way into the warehouse?”

If there’s no ventilation shaft or something similar, he’ll have to use one of the main doors. But with all the workers down there already, they’d either try to attack him out of fear or call the police immediately. That would complicate things a lot. And if he were to knock them all out individually, he’d lose too much time. 

So far there are no suspicious sounds around him, just the regular noise of a new days work at the harbor. No explosions or gunshots. That’s a relief, at least. But it can’t ease his mind.

<”There’s a ventilation shaft at the southwest corner of the warehouse that leads to a maintenance tunnel going around the outer walls inside the warehouse.”>

Tim makes his way over to the position quickly, ducked down to avoid being seen. The sun is rising with every minute and the shadows of the clouds surrounding it can barely hold back the light any longer. In the corner facing the water is indeed the metal cover of a shaft. It’s barely wide enough to fit him, especially not with the cape. After a quick inner debate, he opens the clasps on his shoulders and leaves the cape behind. It’s a tight fit, still, but manageable.

The shaft goes down straight, curves towards the left and goes down straight again. Tim has trouble keeping his balance on the smooth metal walls. If he falls, he’ll break at least an ankle. The decline is slow, but he manages to get down to the bottom of the shaft and finds another lid, that he can push open with his feet. As Alfred has informed him there’s a maintenance tunnel beneath the shaft, full of pipes and electric cables.

Tim follows the tunnel towards the left. That should lead him to the middle of the front side of the warehouse. There’s a lot of noise coming from inside the building. He can hear the distinctive sound of hydraulic presses and running assembly belts. Strange that he couldn’t hear anything from the rooftop, which can only mean that the building was constructed extra soundproof. But for what purpose?

“RR, request one, Agent A.” Tim tries to connect to Alfred, but the channel stays silent, only white noise hisses inside his ears. “RR, request one, Agent A.” He tries again. And a third time. But whatever makes the building soundproof also manages to block their signal of communication. That could explain why Batman’s tracker was off. The walls must block that signal as well.

“Great…” Tim huffs and turns off his communicator. He’s on his own now. 

The tunnel is surrounded by solid concrete and metal. The cables run along the walls and ceiling, every so often some vanish into the walls and others appear again. The further down he walks, the louder the noise becomes. He can hear voices now as well, people shouting at each other over the drowning noise of machinery. This is supposed to be a warehouse, not a factory. What are they doing here?

It takes him about 10 more minutes to reach the end of the tunnel. There’s a metal door blocking his way. A little explosive gel opens the way for him and Tim finds himself inside the warehouse (which definitely is anything but that). He’s on top of some sort of gallery, a hallway that goes around the side of the building, framed by a wall of glass facing the inside. From here Tim can see the assembly lines, watch robotic arms moving around the lines and picking up metallic bits and pieces. The belts run in various lines, from one end of the hall to the other. The robotic arms are big, chunky, but sleek in design and move efficiently around the hall. 

It’s a military grade production facility. What they are assembling here, Tim can’t tell. Bombs, weapons, equipment - all is possible. Doesn’t really matter now anyway.

What does matter though, are the shadows he sees moving across the lines and machines. Their capes flutter as they move, white sparks fly as metal crashes against metal. Their silhouettes clash, a batarang flies across the hall, shatters several lights on the ceiling. The shadows vanish into darkness. One of them is definitely Bruce, the shape of the ears and shoulder plates give away his emergency suit. The other must be Jason, the shape similar to the suit he stole from the cave when he trapped them there.

“Fuck-” Tim curses, sprints down the corridor. He needs to find away down into the hall. The glass surrounding him is bulletproof, he can tell because it has already cracked in several places. There’s even a batarang stuck in it from the other side. But so far it remains solid, no holes anywhere. All the explosive gel he has won’t be enough to rip it apart, he needs a door or a shaft to climb through instead.

The corridor leads through another door, then down a flight of stairs. In his haste Tim nearly runs into an ambush. There are voices coming from the bottom of the stairs. The noise from the production lines nearly drowns them out, but they shout at each other and give their position away. Tim ducks behind a corner and scans the surrounding area. At least 4 opponents are huddled together behind a pillar, umbrellas tucked tightly against their chests. Penguin’s crooks, then. 

With a smoke bomb he conceals his approach and takes them down before they even realize he’s coming at them. The smoke hasn’t even lifted yet, as a hail of bullets comes down on him. One bullet grazes his left calf, another his right side. With a cry he drops down, rolls to the side and huddles behind the pillar. Dammit, the scanner didn’t show anyone else down here. But he can hear them. The sound of their boots on the concrete is loud and clear enough. There are at least 3 of them. And 2 are coming closer.

Okay, think, he needs a plan. He can’t go around them, the stairway is blocking that route. The hallway leads to the right side, they are blocking the exit and there’s only the way up the stairs again if he wants to run. Tim throws another smoke bomb, aims the grappling hook towards the ceiling and swings around the pillar. His scanner still doesn’t show him much, but he can hear them, their boots, the metal of their weapons, someone shouting a warning. He drops down from above, hits one person right in the shoulder and knocks them down. The others fire. Tim ducks out of the way, sweeps across the floor with his feet and hits another crook’s leg’s. The other stumbles, trips over another body that’s already on the floor and falls. The third fires into the black smoke, the bullets tear the concrete from the pillar above Tim. He flips over to the left side, uses the wall as leverage, jumps and crashes head first into the still standing shooter. Both tumble to the floor. But only Tim gets back up again.

As the smoke lifts, Tim checks on them quickly. They are all unconscious, not injured severely. And all of them are wearing camouflage suits. “Great…” Tim curses softly. Suits like that are a whole new level for the Penguin. To be able to block the optical sensors of his scanner means they must be top grade military tech. Either Wayne Tech or by Lex Corp. They’ll have to check how the Penguin got his hands on them as soon as this is over. But he’ll get back to that later. 

Now that the path is clear Tim enters the new hallway that connects to the stairs and finds himself on another level of the hallway surrounding the production hall. The glass walls here are even more damaged, cracked all over and black from explosives thrown against them. Yet they remain intact.

The glass is so splintered he can barely see down unto the assembly lines anymore. There are moving shapes and shadows all around. Several more lights on the ceiling are shattered, it’s dim and barely lit down there. He crosses through another door and finally finds himself on an open platform that allows a descent down into the main hall.

Without his cape, he can’t glide down and he’s still too high up to just jump. Carefully he checks the ceiling. Right above him is a metal brace that should hold his weight. He aims the grappling hook up but before he can activate it, something hits his neck from the side, right between two reinforced plates of metal and pierces the leather underneath. Sharp pain spreads across his skin and the blazing fire of an electrical surge shoots through his muscles.

At once all his muscles lock down, convulse and spasm. Like a dead weight he falls to the side, lands on his right shoulder and hips. Everything burns beneath his suit, spreads into every last fiber of his body. His head knocks against the metal floor of the platform. He tastes blood on his lips. 

Steps echo across the platform and then a shadow looms over him. The ears are too pointy, the cape too enormous and the metal plates on the chest shine too much to be either Bruce or not-Jason. Tim can barely keep his eyes open, no muscles follows his command anymore, but he knows that design, knows the eerie yellow flickering of the lenses. But Lucius’ new suit isn’t ready yet, right?

The figure peers down at him. “Tim Drake, I suppose.” The voice rumbles, deep and smooth. “Shame. I expected more from you.”

Tim barely has time to dwell on the familiarity of the voice as a gloved hand comes down at him and hurls him across the platform. His convulsing body rolls across the floor, barely stops at the edge of the platform. His head hangs over the ledge, facing down. He can hear the figure step closer again.

Down in the hall he can see other shadows. There’s blood on the floor, deep red and shiny. Bruce (it must be Bruce, right? It’s the ears and the shoulder pads - but Tim’s eyes blink in rapid succession, he can’t be sure) is holding his left shoulder, slumped over at one of the assembly belts. The other figure is kneeling beside a robotic arm, blood pooling beneath the left leg.

Suddenly there’s a hand at Tim’s neck. The crushing grip hauls him up and makes him scream in pain.

“Let me give you some advice.” The dark voice is right beside his ear, deep and smooth just like before. “You are not part of Wayne’s family. You are a temporary replacement, and a disappointing one at that. So stop playing pretend. You can never compare to the son that came before you. If not for Jason, you’d have nothing. You’d be nothing. And Wayne never would have looked at you twice.”

The grip loosens and Tim drop to the floor. He crashes against the metal, face first, and succumbs to darkness. 

 

####

 

There’s no way for him to win this fight like this. The other is fast, strong, persistent. They clash and clash again, and neither comes out on top. Bruce can feel the bones in his left shoulder grind against each other with every intake of breath. The bones are broken, badly, maybe even shattered. He should have seen the blow coming, prepare for it better, either duck out of the way or jump to the side. He thought he could take the impact, get close enough to grab the other and throw him into the nearest wall. 

But he had underestimated the force the other could put behind his attack and instead it had been Bruce who was pushed against the wall, stumbled in his fall and shattered his shoulder.

Luckily he had managed to get the other as well, cut open part of his calf and thigh and slow him down that way. If he cut deep enough, the other will lose enough blood to make him dizzy and hinder him in his attacks. Once they aren’t as precise anymore, Bruce can gain the upper hand.

He just needs to wait for the right moment. Right now they are too far apart to be of any immediate danger to each other. Bruce stares across the machine he is leaning against, right at his opponent. They other hasn’t talked at all, not even when Bruce had demanded answers on Dick’ whereabouts. But he will get the answer out of this clone-whatever Jason, no matter what. He is not going to lose another son.

The other is watching him as well. And despite the blood pooling beneath his leg, he manages to push himself to his feet again. It all happens so fast, Bruce barely has time to prepare his counter, as the other dashes forward, jumps over the assembly belt and crashes against Bruce’s chest. A fist meets his shoulder, the blow heavy enough to push him backwards, make him stumble.

Bruce catches himself before he falls. His shoulders burns with pain, there’s a brief second where all he can see is black and white lightning. It lasts but a second, enough for the other to aim another blow at him, once again towards his shoulder. Bruce swings around, instead of his shattered shoulder the blow only hits his chest. The reinforced plates absorb most of its force and give him a chance to counter.

He has to use his right hand and swing across the left. A bad move, given their position, but it’s the only arm he can use right now. The other curls his body to the side. Just what Bruce had been waiting for. He drops down to one knee, the swing of his arm coming around again and punches the other right into his injured leg. He can feel the skin give away under his knuckles, feel the blood gush out of the bursting wound.

The other cries out in pain, stumbles and grabs unto Bruce’s arms, pulling him down as well. They both tumble to the concrete floor, a heap of twisted limbs and fabric. Bruce grunts in pain as well as he rolls over the floor, the bones in his shoulder twisting into unnatural positions. There’s blood on his skin, his fingers are too slick to grab unto anything. He kicks at the body on top of him and throws it off. Then he remains lying on the floor, gasping and panting in agony. His whole left arm burns with sharp pain. He can’t move, can’t roll unto his side. It’s too much.

His vision is blurry. There are shapes and colors, distorted, making him dizzy. Where is the other? Is he going to attack again? What position is he lying in? It hurts too much, he can’t even tell. Bruce blinks several times and it clears his vision at least a little. His cheek is pressed against the cold floor, he’s twisted at the hips, lying half on his shattered shoulder and half on his chest. His good arm is trapped beneath his chest and his injured one useless, he can’t push himself up or roll unto his other side.

The other figure is lying across from him. A puddle of blood has formed beneath him. Bruce must have managed to hit the exact right spot. That gives him time to rest a bit, at least. He can hear the other pant and groan in pain.

Bruce tries to lift himself, use one of his knees beneath him to twist his hips around and ease the pressure from his shoulder. It doesn’t work. He manages to push himself up, just a little before he crashes down again, pressing his shoulder once again against the concrete floor. He hisses, groans and pants, as the world in front of his eyes twirls and twists from the pain.

As Bruce’s vision gets clear again, there’s suddenly another figure across from him. Another cowl stares down at him, as the silhouette moves closer, the black cape swaying behind it with every movement. Whoever that person is, he doesn’t spare a glance at Bruce (that’s his suit, no doubt about it, where did he get it from and how did he get it, it was at the Wayne Tower, how did he gain access?) and stops right beside not-Jason, who is trying to crawl away from them.

“Jason.” The voice is deep, raspy in an unnerving way. The voice module makes the person sound annoyed yet calm. He crouches down beside Jason, laying a hand over his shoulder. Bruce can see the tension rise in the other body. Jason (it’s not Jason, no) tries to swat the hand away, but the other catches his wrist with his free hand easily.

“Fuck you!” Jason curses, his voice croaky and weak. Is it pain? Is it fear? Bruce can’t tell.

The other Batman kneels down, his hand presses against Jason’s neck, pushing his head down. “You’re done running away.” he hisses. “I’ll use force, if I have to. Right now, you still have a choice.”

Jason spits blood right into his face. “And I said ‘fuck you’!”

Bruce can’t see clearly what’s happening, but he hears Jason cry out, watches his body spasm suddenly in pain. Driven by his own rage Bruce tries to push himself up again, uses both knees to give his body enough leverage to move, but as soon as he lifts himself a little, he is forced down again. The other Batman has turned towards him, presses him down with his foot against Bruce’s back.

“Let me make myself clear.” the other growls and for a moment Bruce hears the familiarity in the voice, before all comes crashing down. The kick lands against his shattered shoulder, bones crack once more under the force, splinters drive through his flesh and blood seeps from his skin. There’s nothing but white, burning agony, as his whole body is consumed by it. The world fades into a colorless void.

There are still voices. His own groans of pain. Shouting. Suddenly there are fingers on his scalp, pressed tightly into his hair.

_Please-_ A sob.

_You cooperate. Or he dies._

_I understand…_ A hitching breath.

Then everything stretches too thin, the voices fade too low and time slows down like a river packed with too much ice. Everything is slow but unsteady. There’s pain, first light then darkness. Bruce drifts in and out of different sensations, sometimes he’s warm, sometimes he’s cold. He hears voices, someone calling his name. _Bruce_ _Bruce_ _Bruce_ _Bruce_ _Bruce_  
And there are fingers in his hair, on his face, he can feel their warmth, feel their touch but he can never pint point where exactly they come from.

A week might have passed, or maybe barely minutes before he wakes again. It’s dim, a soft light illuminates the room around him. He’s neither warm nor cold. And whatever he’s lying on is comfortable. There’s still pain radiating from his shoulder, but it’s dulled and seems far away.

His eyes take the longest to recover. He blinks several times before he can make out any shapes and colors. The room he’s in is not a room at all, but a small chamber made from gray metal. There’s a light source inside the ceiling and the rays of light fall down like sunshine through a big leaved tree. He manages to sit up on the cot he was lying on. There’s a mattress underneath, rubber and plastic filled with enough air to provide a comfortable bed.

He is completely naked. Except for his injured shoulder and arm, which are fixed against his body with stripes of fabric strapped across his chest. An IV drip is hooked to his uninjured arm. Bruce pulls it out with his teeth.

Three walls of the chamber are made from frosted glass. Soft light falls through them. One wall, across the cot, is made of normal glass. The light reflects on the smooth surface, Bruce can only make out his own reflection and the reflection of the room surrounding him.

But it’s not a mirror. There’s something on the other side, but too dark to see from where he sits. Carefully he tests his legs, pushes himself up from the bed with his good arm. He’s a bit dizzy and remains frozen for several moments until the sensation has passed. Slowly he walks over to the wall. The chamber is just a few steps wide. As he comes closer he can see behind the glass.

There’s another chamber right beside his. There’s no light inside, just a tiny glimmer that manages to pass through the glass. Across the wall sits another person, hunched over, both arms slightly stretched to either side of his body. The other is naked as well. His head hangs low, his chin pressed against his chest, so Bruce can’t make out his face, but the other is naked as well and Bruce can clearly see the wound stretching across his leg and thigh. It’s stapled together, but the red, frayed line is still visible in the dim light. 

Bruce presses closer to the glass, to shield the light from behind him and make out more details in the other chamber. 

Not doubt it’s Jason sitting there. There are cuffs around his wrists, binding him against the wall. He’s sitting on the floor, no blanket or other kind of fabric around to cover him or make the hard ground more comfortable. There’s a slight tremor in his body, barely noticeable from so far away, but Bruce can see the reflection of light dance across the moving shackles on Jason’s wrists.

Rage seethes inside of him (it’s not Jason, not his son, can’t be, impossible, he wouldn’t have done what he did if he were) at the sight of him chained to the wall. 

“Jason!” Bruce pounds against the glass with his fist. 

Instantly there’s a reaction from the other. Jason lifts his head, stares ahead at him. His eyes are wide, unfocused, a feverish glint inside of them. Drops of sweat run down his face. If he’s feverish, then his wound might be infected. Is he getting any medicine? There’s no food or water in the small chamber. But Jason wouldn’t be able to reach any food or water with his arms secured to the wall anyway.

“Fuck… you really shouldn’t be here…” Jason mumbles, low and clipped, Bruce can barely make out the words. “I’m so sorry…” his head rolls forward again.

“Jason!” Bruce pounds against the glass once more, to keep Jason’s attention focused on him, to keep him awake, anything but watch him sit there, chained and unmoving. “Jason- where are we?”

Where is here? How did they get here? Did the other Batman bring them here? How much time has passed since their fight?

One second to the other the glass between them turns milky and white. Just like the other walls, obscuring anything that lies behind it. Bruce scratches at the wall in panic. What’s happening? Instead, the wall to his left turns sheer. And Bruce finds himself face to face with another version of himself. 

The other Bruce is clad in a dark blue suit, a white shirt underneath. He looks young. But there is no mistake in his stance. His arms are bulky, his chest broad. He’s another Batman, another strong warrior on a mission. Bruce has seen that look in his own eyes enough times to know what - or rather who - he’s facing.

He walks to remaining steps towards the glass. The other Bruce doesn’t move, just lets his eyes wander across his body. 

“I should have killed you.” the other Bruce sneers. His eyes show arrogance, disgust and a dangerous glimmer of self-righteousness.

“What do you want?” Bruce asks, keeping his voice low. His heart is still racing, his fingers still twitch. He forces the feelings down, no, he can’t be emotional right now. Assess the situation, calculate the possible outcomes and act accordingly, that’s all he needs to do right now. Then he’ll take care of Jason (is it his son, could it even be, but does it really matter either way?).

The other chuckles. “I’ve seen what you call family. You’re weak.” He moves a step to the side. “You don’t deserve to call him your son anymore. I’ve learned from my mistakes, something you refused to do.” He takes a small step back.

A hall stretches out behind him. Rows among rows of white torpedo-shaped capsules stretch towards all sides of the hall, ladders and bridges connecting the upper levels. Bruce’s gaze wanders across the rows. He counts 200, maybe more, the hall stretches so wide, he can’t see its corners. 

“You’re only alive because he begged me to spare you life.” The other laughs. “I want you to know what you’ve lost. Because once your shoulder is healed, I will send you back and you will live the rest of your life knowing that I’ll take better care of him than you ever could. Among all of us, only I know how to take care of them. And I will, don’t ever forget that.”

He presses a hand against the glass and before Bruce can retort, the glass turns frosted again and the lights of the chamber turn off.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Sorry for the delay. Things really did get as hectic as I feared. But here is finally the next chapter.  
> The next one might take a while as well, I already apologize for that, because I am currently preparing for my 3 weeks holiday trip later this month. 
> 
> And thanks again for all the comments, kudos, bookmarks, etc.!! They make me happy and hopefully in return this little story is entertaining for you as well :) so win-win for all sides~

Bruce tracks the time he spends in the chamber. He adds up the minutes by counting his heartbeat. It’s the most accurate method he has and though he has to sleep eventually, he has trained himself to go under no more than 30 minutes before he wakes up again. It’s tiring, exhausting, but the only control he has of his environment.

The chamber is solid, no gaps or corners suggest it was made of individual parts and screwed together to form the final shape. Without any tools, Bruce has no chance of escaping on his own. The other Bruce is trying to throw him off as well. At random intervals Bruce receives food or water, sometimes both, through a small latch at the bottom of the wall opposite to Jason’s cell. The shaft is too small to fit into, even Damian would be too big for it.

3 days have passed already since he woke up the first time. The other Bruce hasn’t shown himself again. And the glass around the chamber stays frosted. There’s no cycle indicating night or day, there’s always light, bright enough to make it difficult for him to fall asleep. And when he wakes, he feels anything but rested.

He receives just enough food and water to not starve or go thirsty, but over time, it will make his body weaker. He’ll lose muscles mass and his body will switch to emergency mode. He could try to work out, do sit-ups and push-ups to remain fit, but he’d just exhaust himself unnecessarily. And his shoulder needs time to heal as well.

The bindings help a lot, Bruce can’t deny that. They are done well, with just enough pressure to keep his muscles and bones from moving around too much. He must have received some antibiotics as well, he doesn’t feel feverish or sluggish at all. They might be mixed in with his food and water. But taking the risk of eating drugged food is still better than purposely starving himself. 

He still hasn’t received any clothing or a blanket to cover himself with when he sleeps. For once, that would defeat the purpose of the eternal daylight mode the chamber is in, as he could cover his eyes with the fabric. Or he could use it to make some sort of tool, a rope to sling around someone’s neck or bid them with. Anything he can get his hands on could be turned into a weapon.

His shoulder bindings are a candidate for that as well, but as long as his shoulder hasn’t healed at least a little, it would do more harm than help to take them off. And Bruce isn’t even sure he can do it himself, without damaging his shoulder further. The binding is very sturdy, doesn’t give away much to movement and the latch that might open it up is right beneath his shoulder, at his back, where he can’t reach with his free hand without twisting his shoulder forward. That would cause more damage as well.

The equipment of the IV drip proved rather useless as well. The needle seems to be made from cheap plastic or a similar material. Had he not torn it out shortly after waking, it might have broken apart while still inside his arm. And whatever material the tube is made of, it has already started to break down. First it tore into several pieces, which now start to crumble to dust if Bruce as much as touches them.

He has nothing he can use effectively and his injured shoulder is a huge burden on top of it. If he were to attack someone with his bare hands, they’d know exactly where to hit to neutralize him. So he uses his time differently, by trying to piece together all information he has received so far. 

There is another Bruce Wayne. He’s younger than him, at least 5 years, maybe more. They are in a facility that belongs to him, was possibly built by him. These capsules outside his own chamber are most likely storage units. Whatever he stores in them, he has many of them, more than 200. There were no guards around that Bruce could see. Either this facility isn’t guarded or it is guarded by technology rather than other humans. That is a likely alternative. 

The biggest question is still - where are they? Gotham? But where would a warehouse this big be? They could be underground. That would explain the lack of natural light, not only in Bruce’s chamber, but also outside in the halls with the capsules. There had been only artificial light as well.

Who is this other Bruce? Alien? Shapeshifter? Clone? Or Jason’s story is true and he is indeed from another reality, then this Bruce might be as well. What kind of reality? Why is he after this Jason? Are they from the same reality? Or have they met and clashed before? This other Bruce might have been the one responsible for their Jason’s disappearance. And if he is, why would he target the Jasons of other realities? What happened to his own?

He had seemed unhappy with how Bruce lives his life. But concerning what exactly? How he interacted with Jason? How they turned from family to foes and back to family? Why doesn’t he deserve to call him son anymore? And what mistakes should he have learned from?

There are quite a lot he has made over the years - Bruce knows this only too well. Sometimes at night he counts his blessings; that all of his children are still alive and it is sometimes even enough to let him sleep. How he failed Dick in encouraging him to find his own path, how he lost Jason to principle alone and still has to pay for his lack of empathy, and nearly did the same thing to Stephanie, because he couldn’t bear to repeat the cycle with someone who was so similar to Jason and able to bring back memories in him that he had thought buried deep enough to rot.

He isn’t the father Damian needed when he first came to Gotham, nor the one he needs now as he is finally allowed to develop his own personality freely. And his relationship with Tim is strained, because he had tried to be partner, father and mentor all at once, without committing to one fully. Cass hasn’t known him long enough yet, but he’ll fail her as well, he knows he will, no matter how hard he tries to avoid it.

He had hoped to learn at least something from his past mistakes, but the cycle repeats over and over again. He tries, he fails, he hurts his kids and can’t ever make up for it, because the scars he leaves behind are deep enough to stay with them for the rest of their lives.

Bruce cuts that strain of thought of forcefully. Assess the situation, calculate the possible outcomes and act accordingly.   
He repeats the sentence several times inside his mind. If only he could talk to Jason again. See how he is doing. Is he still feverish? What has happened in the last 3 days? The technology that changes the glass from frosted to opaque and back must be able to absorb sounds as well. He has heard nothing from the other chamber. The first day he had tried to shout and pound against the glass as well, without receiving any reaction.

Around 2 hours have passed since he woke up, he should try to sleep some more. But as he lies down a sound startles him. The metallic clatter of the latch opening and closing echoes through the chamber. As he turns his head slightly to stretch his neck his gaze passes over the walls surrounding him. The opposite one has turned opaque. This time there is actually light in the other chamber, Bruce can see the outline of it clearly. With haste he springs from the bed, bumps his shoulder against the frame of his air-filled bed and hisses in pain as the bones shift around. 

Quickly he’s in front of the glass, pressed so close his nose nearly touches it. 

Jason is sitting in the corner where their chambers connect, his back against the opaque glass. It must have been his latch that had opened, because he reaches for a paper cup with water and bread and steamed vegetables lying there. They get no plates and just a cup made of paper (or at least something similar), that will dissolve shortly. Bruce had tried to keep the cup but once it has been in contact with water, it dissolves shortly after, so they have just enough time to drink it all in one go. The other Bruce has really though of everything.

Jason is naked as well. And has no blanket either. He’s tucked into the corner of his cell as tightly as possible, his injured leg stretched out before him. Bruce can’t see the wound, the light inside the chamber is too dim and Jason has tucked his other leg so close to his body that it blocks his view completely.

“Jason.” He calls for his attention, softly as to not startle him. 

The other barely reacts, just tilts his head to the side a little. His hair falls over his eyes, nearly hiding his face from view. Bruce can only see the tip of his nose, part of his mouth and chin. 

“You’re awake…” Jason rasps. His voice sounds dry but strong. Clear enough to not warrant more worry. He seems better. And luckily he is not shackled anymore. “Guess he got tired of watching you run in circles…” Jason chuckles softly. His shoulders shake with the sound but slump shortly after. “Yeah, I’m bored too…”

There’s a hitch in his words, something trembling and shaky in every words he says. The pauses between the syllables are noticeable. 

“How are you feeling?” Bruce asks, careful to stretch his words out a little. He can’t sound worried or distressed. If only for Jason’s sake, as much as his own.

Nothing in the other chamber tells him anything new. It’s the same as his, mirrored by the wall between them, except for the shackles on the wall and the new bed-rest, that wasn’t there before. The light is dimmer as well.

Jason shrugs. He turns the cup around between his fingers, stares into the liquid. “Fine, I guess.” He shrugs again and leans his head back against the wall. “We shouldn’t talk, he’s listening, you know.”

Bruce figured as much. As long as he has no plan for escape, talking won’t put them at a disadvantage. There’s nothing to hide from the other Bruce. At least not yet. He’ll figure that obstacle out when he needs to. He sits down at the wall as well. If not for the glass between them, their shoulders would be pressed together. Several minutes they sit likes this, silence stretching out between them. 

“How’s the shoulder?”

Bruce shrugs slightly. “Not too bad.” And he isn’t lying about that. “How’s your leg?”

It’s weird to think that just a few days ago they fought each other with everything they had. They hadn’t cared about injuring the other and now Bruce feels guilty for it.

Jason laughs a little. “You are a tough bastard, have to give you that. Targeting my leg was a smart move. I didn’t think you’d try it, given the condition of your shoulder. Guess I just forgot how stubborn you can be.”

Despite their situation, Bruce has to smile faintly. Jason used to call him stubborn all the time, as if he wasn’t just a thickheaded. Jason turns his body around just as Bruce does the same. They both look each other over quickly, compelled to do so by years of the same training. Bruce notices the hectic movements of Jason’s eyes, how unfocused they seem in the dim light. Are his hands shaking slightly as well?

“Jason-” he begins, but the other seems to catch his intention right away and interrupts quickly.

“Yes, he drugs my food and water. Safety measures, I suppose. Last time…” Jason stops for several seconds, his gaze drifting over the opposite wall. “You know, since the Pit, I need a much higher dosage of any medicine or drug than the average person to have the same effect on me. Last time he didn’t know that, he ended up giving me too little and that’s how I managed to escape. Guess this time he found the right dosage. My legs feel like jelly… so not much walking or running.” He shrugs.

Bruce knows that, at least in theory. The effects the Pit has on humans vary, depending on how long and often someone is immersed. But there’s no doubt it has changed Jason, at least his physique and possibly his immune system as well. Bruce had noticed the height, the bulk of his shoulders and broad chest that stood in contrast to his slow growth as a younger child. They look more alike now than they ever have before.

Apart from that, there are many things Bruce doesn’t recognize in this Jason. The scars are one thing. How did he get them? When? Some of the injuries must have been severe enough to cause permanent damage. Yet he hadn’t seemed bothered or hindered by them. Might the Pit have affected his body’s healing ability that much?

“You shouldn’t be here.” Jason interrupts his thoughts. He is staring straight at him, his mouth a thin line. “This is not a good place for you and as soon as I have a plan how to get you away from here, I will.” Jason nods to himself, his voice barely shakes. There’s more than just resolve and determination in his eyes. “I need you to promise me that you’ll run. If you don’t, you might never leave again.”

Bruce stares back at him. Again, before he can even start to answer, Jason interrupts him. “Damn you, Bruce!” Jason pounds his closed fist against the glass between them. “This is the only thing I will ask of you! The only thing! And damn you for not even entertaining the thought of believing me!”

He is right. He doesn’t believe him. Why should he leave? What can be found here that this Jason doesn’t want him to discover? He can’t leave, not before he knows, no matter who would have asked it of him. “What is this place?” he asks the other instead.

Jason stares at him, his tightly pressed lips still tremble faintly. The silence between them lasts for minutes, it’s so quiet Bruce can hear Jason’s erratic breaths. His chest heaves, his arms and legs shake from harsh muscle contraction. But both their gazes do not waver.

Suddenly the light turns off and only a soft shimmer of white is left. Enough to see the outline of Jason’s body before him and the edges of the chamber surrounding him. The walls around them creak. And without warning the front opens into the hall before them. Carefully Bruce gets to his feet. Is someone coming for them? The light behind the entrance to the chamber has turned off as well. It’s dark outside the chamber and no silhouette is visible. Apart from some electrical buzzing, it’s eerily quiet. 

Slowly he makes his way over to the entrance and peeks into the hall. Nothing. He can hear no movement anywhere. Beside his chamber, Jason’s has opened as well. Bruce steps through the entrance and finds Jason already up. He’s leaning against the wall with his shoulder, supporting his weight on it. His injured leg is tugged closely against his other one. It must still hurt too much to walk on it. Wordlessly Bruce walks up to him. “You can lean on me.” he whispers. With his injured shoulder he can’t carry him, but at least offer support to lean on. 

Jason visibly hesitates. He turns his head and stares at the entrance of his chamber as if expecting someone to appear. “Time to get going, B.” 

Bruce can hear the hesitation in Jason’s words. “What happened?” he asks. The other suddenly grabs his hand and places it at his neck. 

“Hopefully plan B.” Jason answers quietly and presses Bruce’s fingers against his skin, right at the spot where his spine meets his skull.

Even without much pressure Bruce can feel a rectangular outline beneath the skin, hidden underneath the hairline. It has rounded but hard edges and is only as wide as his thumb is. Thin lines stretch out from it under the skin and disappear deeper into Jason’s flesh. The skin right on top of it is raised slightly, a thin scar, spreading in a Y-shape. Something has been planted under Jason’s skin and somehow connected to deeper tissue, either at his spine or towards his skull, possibly both. Everything point towards a computer chip or a similar device.

“What-” Bruce begins to ask, but Jason quickly jams his elbow into his side. “Shut up!” he growls. “The lights might be off, but I bet he can still listen. Time to get going.”

Without much choice Bruce follows Jason’s directions, which he points out with his free hand. The other has been here before, better to follow his lead than get lost in the near darkness of the place. They hobble across the hall outside their chambers, first towards the left and then straight for some time. Jason holds unto his uninjured shoulder and lets him carry half his weight as well. 

There is still nobody else around, Bruce can only hear their own steps echo through the hall. Is nobody guarding the place? And where is the other Bruce? They reach a wall and Jason makes him follow it towards the left until they reach a row of capsules identical to the ones Bruce had seen across their chamber. “Stop.” Jason orders and pushes away from his shoulder, balances himself against the wall. “It should be here somewhere…”

It’s too dark to see properly. Bruce can only make out shapes and outlines, nothing concrete. Jason navigates down the wall, looking for something hidden there. Maybe a latch? Something leading to a door? Bruce watches his silhouette move back and forth, hobbling around on one leg. 

But he is drawn to the capsules at their back. Maybe it is curiosity, maybe worry, but he approaches the lowest row of them carefully. There are control panels attached to all of them. The screen shimmers slightly, emitting only a low gray light. There’s a pad for entering numbers, a code of 6 digits. There are no handles, latches or anything else on the capsules. They are halfway embedded into the wall, no use trying to pry them free with force. What do they contain?

He let’s his fingers sweep over the metallic surface of the capsule. He can feel how the material changes beneath his skin. One part is definitely metal, the other feels more like glass. But he can’t see inside the capsule. Maybe it contains the same technology as the glass from their chambers? 

“You still want to know?” Jason’s quiet voice breaks through the silence. 

Carefully Bruce turns around. The other is leaning against the wall, his shoulders slumped and his head hangs low. Bruce can’t make out any details, but the other looks tired. Worn. “Eve…” Jason sighs, his voice low and dark. “Light up row A36.”

Nothing happens for several seconds. Then the whole row illuminates and all capsules softly shine from within. What Bruce had perceived as glass before might be just the same as the walls of their chambers. Slowly, as the light from within shines through it, Bruce can watch it turn opaque. His eyes widen, his fingers tremble. A knife, hot and sharp, plunges right into his heart. He stares down at the first face, unbelieving of what he sees. He stumbles, nearly falls, tripping over his feet as he crashes with his back against the next capsule. The same face stares up at him. Third, fourth capsule, still the same. Bruce stumbles back, crashes against the wall.

Jason at 10, hair disheveled and unruly, hands folded over his heart, Jason at 18, white clothes stained with dark blood, his long hair framing a white face, Jason at 14, without any hair on his head, sharp cheekbones on a sunken face, nothing but unmoving bodies in glass coffins.


End file.
